


Promised

by Fortisfiliae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, No use of y/n, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22961143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fortisfiliae/pseuds/Fortisfiliae
Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. Everyone deserves to be with a Neville kind of guy, but Tom’s character is fun to explore.
Relationships: Tom Riddle & Reader, Tom Riddle | Voldemort/Reader, Tom Riddle/Reader, Voldemort & Reader
Comments: 253
Kudos: 396





	1. Dinner Guests

The bathroom mirror was still fogged-up, your blurry face looking back at you, when you put on the earrings your mother had given you earlier. A quick check-up on your dress couldn’t hurt either, so you smoothed the fabric down your thighs once again, making sure it wasn’t wrinkled. 

“The Gaunts will be our guests tonight. And I expect you on your best behaviour,” Mother had said in the morning. What she hadn’t done though, was answering the questions you had met her with.

Why are they coming? Since when are they more than any other filthy rich family, looking for peers? And since when is your family interested in such peers? And why, oh why do they visit on the last evening of summer vacation, when you had planned to spend it with your little sister?

“You’ve got no business asking all those things young lady” she had said, flicking her wand to reposition the cushions on the sofa in the living room. “Now go to your room if you’re not going to help me tidy.”

A quiet sigh escaped your lips, still looking at your reflection in the mirror. You cupped your own cheek with one hand and wondered when they would arrive.   
Your “best behaviour”. Pah. As if she ever had to remind you. Nothing was easier than behaving. Just keep your mouth shut and smile. Think of them what you want and maybe hex them later. Never disagree, never tell them what you really think.   
You had done this for 18 years. Every dinner party had had its moments when you’d rather told the guests to finally shut up and go home, but you had never done it. Just nodded and agreed to whatever idiotic thing the person next to you had said. Tonight would be exactly the same. Smile, nod, wait for them to vanish. Easy. 

On your way downstairs, you peeked into your little sister’s room. Elsie was sleeping and took deep, heavy breaths. She had been cursed about a week ago. Someone had sent a letter to your father that she had opened, not knowing what was inside. An adult would have probably been able to get over it, but her tiny body was struggling so badly, you thought it had killed her when it hit her. A house-elf was always with her to check her breathing and her temperature when you or your parents weren’t able to watch her. You closed the door, wiped your eyes and took a deep breath.

And there rang the doorbell. Your Father opened the door and in came three men. First was Marvolo Gaunt, roughly 60 years of age, with coarse skin and sparse grey hair beneath his bonnet. The man after introduced himself as Morfin Gaunt, a man in his forties, much better groomed than his father, but nevertheless the same slimy grin on his face.  
The third in line was, to your surprise, Tom Riddle, a boy from your school. Their different last names had caused you to forget they were related. But now you remembered. Your friend Camille had told you once that Tom lived with his grandfather and uncle. 

If you didn’t know better, you could have thought he was a gentleman. He carried himself with a certain sense of pride and elegance. Not too much, not too little. No slimy grin, yet more of an unreadable expression of indifference on his face. He didn’t shake your hand like the two men before but glanced curtly at you before he introduced himself to your parents. Prick. 

Your sister’s seat at the dinner table stayed empty again. The house-elves had set the whole table, in case she wanted to join. You thought about going up to her room to check up on her again. Later. Now it was time for your best behaviour. 

“Thank you for having us tonight,” Marvolo Gaunt said when the first coarse arrived. “It’s a rare delight to see that there still are families with values.”

The way he had emphasised values sent a cold shiver down your spine. 

Your Father nodded. “Rare indeed.”

Tom sat opposite of you and ate quietly. Never before had you seen someone not making a noise when cutting their food. Strange.   
You weren’t even sure if he knew you. He must have, you shared classes at school after all. But he had completely ignored you since they had arrived. 

Morfin Gaunt put on his, apparently, most sympathetic smile. “We heard about your other daughter. And her,” He paused for a second and looked at the empty spot at the table. “Condition.”

What was he implying? Rumours surely spread as quickly as dragon pox, but why bring it up during dinner? You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from asking.

“And we heard about you knowing how to cure it,” your father said.

He knew. He must have invited them for exactly that reason. You looked over to Tom, to see if he was privy as well, but he still looked down onto his plate.

“Well, we have our ways,” Marvolo said and cut a piece of meat. “Old magic. Curse breaking. Better than whatever humbug they’re doing in St. Mungos.”

“You’ve taken her to the hospital, I believe?” Morfin asked.

“We have. They couldn’t help her. Said they’ve never seen a case like it.”

“Humbug, as I said,” Marvolo chewed complacently. “Bunch of quacks.”

“How do you think you can help her?” your mother asked.

“We would have to take a look at her first. From what I’ve heard it’s a rare and complicated curse, but there hasn’t been a single one I haven’t broken,” Morfin told her. “I’d have to brew and test some potions. I know people who supply me with a lot of, uncommon, ingredients. It could take a while and it’s not entirely legal. Risky business. But I can manage.”

Then it clicked. Of course. They wanted something in return. The Gaunts didn’t look like they would do such things out of the kindness of their hearts. But what was it? Money? They didn’t look like they needed it. Loyalty? 

“And how could we show our gratitude in return?” your father finally asked and took a sip of wine. He always did that to hide his face when he was nervous.

Tom shifted in his seat, while Marvolo and Morfin looked at each other.

“You see,” Marvolo began. “Our family is powerful. Our bloodline stretches back to Salazar Slytherin himself. And yet, as much as I’d like to hide it, there’s been a stain in this very bloodline, when my daughter had my grandson with this muggle bastard.”

All eyes were on Tom now, who looked at his grandfather vacantly. Only you seemed to notice how white his knuckles had turned on the hand around his dinner knife.

“Tom is, against all expectations, very smart and an ingenious wizard,” Marvolo went on. “This can be traced back to the good genes of all the generations of Gaunts before him, that I’m sure of. And even though he can be trusted to find his way, I, as the head of the family, must make sure that there won’t be another incident that could further dilute our bloodline.”

Your parents looked at each other as if they didn’t know what to say. Your father, with his wine glass still in hand, asked: “So you want what, exactly?”

“Marriage,” Marvolo answered.

Your fork fell out of your hand and onto your plate with a shrill clink. Everyone, even Tom, looked at you now.

“I’m sorry?” you asked and cleared your throat. “I must have misheard you, Mr Gaunt.”

Marvolo turned back to your parents. “It’s simple. You need someone to help your daughter, we need a decent woman, from a noble pureblood family, for my grandson to marry. Accept it, or don’t.”

“Excuse me. Do I have a say in this?” you asked, more towards your parents than to anyone else.

Your Mother looked as shocked as you, but only whispered: “They can help Elsie.”

“Well, if your older daughter objects, there’s still a second one, isn’t there?” Morfin asked incidentally. 

“She’s ten!” you said, a bit too loudly.

“So? We’ve got time. I wouldn’t prefer it either, but if you’re not willing to help, we can make it work.”

“Uncle,” Tom hissed and stared at the table. “Stop!”

“So, what do you say?” Marvolo asked your parents again. 

“Can we have time to think about it?” your Father asked. “Let me talk to my daughter and -“

“No. Us Gaunts offer our help once and only once. Take it or leave it.”

Silence. Your parents looked at Marvolo, then at you and back at themselves. The Gaunts smiled patiently and Tom was looking down onto the table again. 

The only thing you could think of was your sister’s little face and how it scrunched up when she almost coughed her lungs out. Elsie was too young to suffer like this. She was too kind, too pure to live through the hell that this curse had put her in. 

“Why is this happening to me?” she had asked you a few days ago. You had had no answer for her. Not that anyone else deserved to be cursed, but she was the last person that deserved it. Marvolo probably was right - the people at the hospital didn’t know how to help her at all. She hadn’t even got a little bit better in a week. It was a miracle that she was still alive. But how long can miracles last for?

“Well, no answer is an answer,” Marvolo said and pushed his chair back to get up.

“No,” you said quickly. “I’ll do it. For my sister.”

Your mother uttered a low cry. You couldn’t tell whether it was from relief or horror. 

“Excellent,” Marvolo said and shook your father’s hand, whose face had turned grey. 

“When?” your Father asked. 

“When they’ve finished their last year of school. No need to further distract them. Unless you want them to tie the knot sooner?”

“No, no. After this school year, it is, then.”

“Should we go and take a look at the little one now?” Morfin asked. 

“Uh, yes. Of course,” Father said and everyone except Tom got up.

You were following the guests and your parents upstairs until your mother turned around. “You stay here, love. We can’t let you come. Look after the boy and make sure he doesn’t sneak around.” She put her hand on your shoulder and squeezed it hard, as if to say thank you, then turned back around and left.

Thank you would have been an understatement you thought while going back into the dining room. Tom was still sitting there, his back facing you. It looked like he hadn’t moved an inch.   
Your heart was still racing from the life-changing decision you had just made and he looked so indifferent. Was he right in the head?

You sat down opposite him and looked him straight in the eyes, waiting for him to say something. He stared back, not moving a single muscle in his face. You weren’t scared, but his whole presence was intimidating. It took up the entire room now and made you reach for your wand in the pocket of your dress.   
The way he looked into your eyes, so piercingly, as if he was staring right into your soul, while not showing any emotion on his face was inhuman and eerie. You didn’t know if seconds or hours had passed, but he was still looking back at you and you weren’t sure if he had even blinked once.

“What?” it blurted out of you.

He leaned back slowly. “What ‘what’?”

“What is it with you? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You started it. I’m just returning the favour.”

“Well… Stop it then. Please.”

“Alright.” He seemed amused. Wow.

Silence again. That was even worse than the staring. 

“Don’t you want to say something?” you finally asked.

“What should I want to say?”

“I don’t know. Maybe get upset about the whole ‘we’re supposed to get married’ thing?”

“What difference would it make? It’s done.” 

“Haven’t you imagined a different life for yourself? To choose who to marry on your own? Or was it your dream to marry me all along?”

He slowly looked you up and down displeasedly. “Believe me. I’ve never dreamed of you. Ever.”

That somehow hurt more than you had anticipated.

“How could you let this happen then? If you don’t want to do it.”

“As you can imagine, I have not been asked if I wanted to,” Tom said and tapped his fingers on the dinner table. “You just experienced yourself how decisive my grandfather can be. How could you let this happen?”

“I had no other choice, had I?”

“Of course you had a choice.”

“And let my sister die?”

“Then you made the decision to give her another chance to live and take both our chances away,” he said and got up. “You did that to yourself.”

“What?”

“I’ll wait for my family outside. See you at school.”


	2. Back in Hogwarts

Being back at Hogwarts felt strange. Usually, you loved being back there, how the old stone walls made you feel warm, even if they were so cold. You loved to see your friends again and tell them everything you had done during summer holidays.

But this time, after leaving your sick little sister behind and after practically selling your soul to the devil, you felt as if everyone knew already. Every time someone looked at you, it felt like they were judging you. 

_How could she do this? How could she agree to marry someone she didn’t love? She probably did it for the money. Or for his reputation. Both perhaps._

No one had really said anything yet and you weren’t sure if people had always looked at you like that, or if you just interpreted something into it, but you were quite sure they knew.

Girls from fifth grade had always greeted you and had looked up to you, trying to impress you and wanting to be noticed. Now they didn’t look you in the eyes, even though you could feel them staring at you from behind. They would group up in the hallways and whisper to each other after you had passed them.

Camille Kegley was the only person you trusted enough to talk to. She had been your best friend since the first year of Hogwarts and was the most loyal person you knew. A true Hufflepuff. So you had told her every little detail. How your sister got cursed, when the Gaunts visited, what they offered and what they asked for in return. She was shocked, but she understood.

“I would have done the same thing for my brother,” she said. “I’m so sorry all of this happened though. If I can do anything to help you out, just let me know.”

“Thank you. Really. The only thing I want right now is for everyone to stop looking at me like I murdered someone.”

“You think they know already?”

“‘I’m not sure,” you sighed. “Seems like it.”

“Have you told anybody?”

“Just you. And please. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want Elsie to be the girl who’s been cursed when she starts school next year. I won’t be here to help her.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry. But how would anyone know it then, by now?”

“I have a feeling the Gaunts want as many people to know as possible. To make it harder for me to back out.”

“You think Tom-”

“No,” you said and shook your head. “It seemed he was even more against it than I was. His grandfather. I think it’s him who’s eager for everyone to know.”

“Wanker,” Camille said.

“Tosser,” you added.

“Merlin’s saggy left bollock,” Camille went one better and you both laughed. “And what about Tom?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, looks like you’re going to marry him. Do you like him? In any way?”

“I… Don’t know. I don’t really know him. He seems to really take after his grandfather.”

“Saggy bollock,” Camille whispered.

“I guess I’ll try to get to know him. I mean we’ll have to get along someday.”

“Good idea. You should do that.”

“He’s so distant. Cold. I don’t know how to approach him really.”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know how to talk to boys,” she snickered. “Maybe he’s quite nice.”

“Maybe.”

* * *

Maybe not. Tom acted like nothing had happened for the first week of school. He must have mastered the arts of ignoring someone because you felt as if he didn’t even know who you were. He didn’t greet you in the hallway, hell, he didn’t even glance at you in class. Nothing. 

How was this supposed to work if he didn’t try at all? He left you clueless.

The only person who talked normally to you, besides Camille, was Benjamin Hilt. A Gryffindor boy from year six. He was annoying, to say the least. Maybe he just tried to be nice, but it seemed he wanted to know a lot about Tom and you. And, to be fair, you didn’t even know much about Tom and you.

Ben acted like Hogwarts’ very own private investigator, trying to elicit as much information as possible from you. He had you wondering if he was working for the Daily Prophet. 

How did the engagement happen? Weren’t you still too young? Did your parents agree immediately? Was it possible that you didn’t do it willingly? Was it forced? 

“Merlin, Ben!” you shouted. “Stop asking all those questions. What are you trying to get out of this?”

“I don’t know,” he said and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s just so strange, you know. I’ve never seen you two together. Seems off.”

“Well, mind your own business then. Freak,” you said and rushed out of the great hall. 

* * *

Even though Tom avoided you magnificently, his friends, or rather his followers, seemed very much interested in you. And not in a positive way. They looked you up and down in class, followed you in the hallways and you could only guess what they were mumbling to each other. Certainly not compliments.

Avery and Lestrange were the worst of them. They were on you all the time. You tried to act as if you didn’t notice, but it got more concerning each day. Every time you looked over your shoulder, those two were standing close. And they smiled so spitefully, you could tell how much they enjoyed freaking you out. Bastards.

You had made it a habit not to walk the corridors alone. Camille was with you most of the time and if she couldn’t be there, you followed random groups of people until you found one of your friends.

This technique, as humiliating as it was, worked well. Until that one day, when Professor Binns asked you to stay for a moment, after your History Of Magic lesson. Not only did he ask you the most boring things, but made you more nervous each second, when your classmates’ voices faded until you couldn’t hear a single sound from the hallway.

Your heart was beating in your throat when you left the classroom. Of course. Avery and Lestrange had waited for you. With their stupid grins on their faces. They didn’t even act as if they were there for something else.

You pondered where to go. The great hall was always busy and also quite near, so you turned right. They were following you. You heard their footsteps behind you and they were coming closer. 

Whenever you went a little faster, the two of them did too. You thought about running away but didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. 

Eventually, they caught up. Avery walked to your left, Lestrange to your right until they had you cornered.

“What do you want?” you asked and tried your best to control your voice. 

“Just wanted to say hello,” Avery said.

“Hello,” you said and tried to push through them, but they didn’t let you.

“No,” Lestrange smirked. “We’re not done yet.”

“Did Riddle send you?” you asked. “To scare me?”

“Why would he do that? To his future wife.”

“You tell me.”

“We’re here to clear some things up,” Avery said. “That you might not know.”

“And what’s that?” you asked.

“You see, we don’t know how you did it. How your family pulled that trick to make Tom agree to marry you. It can only mean that you’re plotting something. And -”

“Wait, he didn’t tell you?” you asked.

“We know enough, okay?” Avery hissed. “Tom has a great future ahead of him. And I swear, if you get in the way, you’re going to regret it.”

“I’m not -”

“Shut up,” Lestrange interrupted you with his wand close to your face. “I don’t know what you’re after. Money, fame, whatever it is. You might want to think about it again and I’ll have you know it’s not worth it.”

“I don’t care for any of that.”

“Come on, what other reason could you have to pull off something like that?”

There was no way you were telling them about Elsie. Every student would know by next year and she was far too sensitive to handle that.

“None of your business,” you answered.

“That just proves you’re not trustworthy,” Avery said.

“Because I’m not telling you two my reasons?” you almost laughed. “Give me a break. Why didn’t you ask Tom? Your friend. Or should I say your leader?”

They both blushed and you could tell they were embarrassed. Even if everyone knew how much power Riddle had over his friends, they apparently didn’t like to be reminded of it.

“Listen here, you little -” Avery stopped talking when a hand touched his shoulder and pulled him and Lestrange away from you.

Tom stood there, looking at them rigidly. “What are you doing?”

“We’re… Just…”

“Talking to her. Trying to get to know her better,” Avery mumbled.

Tom looked at you for a second, then back at his friends. “Doesn’t seem like you were having a nice chat.”

“Oh it was very nice,” Avery said. “Making friends.”

“Was it a nice chat?” Tom asked you.

You were still so tense from them threatening you and hadn’t expected Tom to talk to you directly after days of silence, so you just stammered: “I… They -”

“Shut up you,” Lestrange took a step in your direction until Tom pressed his wand against Lestrange’s chest.

“Don’t,” Tom said through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t -”

“I don’t care Tiernan. Let’s go.”

Without another word, the three boys walked away towards the Slytherin common room. You were still glued to the spot when Tom turned around and glanced at you quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing!


	3. Parallels and Potions

You found yourself in a corridor. It was dark. So dark, you could hardly see anything but the low light on its end. The light was subtle, yet it pulled you towards it. As you started walking, you noticed that you held something in your hands. It was quite big, but not too heavy and you couldn’t see enough to detect what it was. So you kept on walking towards the light. Although it seemed so close, it felt like you had walked for hours on the spot. 

Finally, you reached the exit and entered a small room. It was bright and made you squint your eyes. Dozens of chairs were lined up left and right from you, with a path in their midst. The seats were all empty, but there was one person standing at the end of the path. Tom. He wore a black suit and tie, his hands intertwined on his back as he watched you walking towards him.

Now that you could finally see, you looked down yourself and saw what you were wearing. A floor-length, white dress. A wedding dress to be precise, classy and modest. The lace fabric wrapped around your arms perfectly. You also saw the thing you had brought along with you. A bouquet of flowers. Red roses, each one flawless and beautiful.

Tom smiled at you as you were slowly approaching him. He turned around and you saw his grandfather Marvolo standing at the podium. The light suddenly went out and it was dark again. You heard a scream. Elsie. Her voice echoed in your ears as you were turning to find her, stumbling in the dark again. You knocked over a chair when the lights went back on and her voice fell silent. She was nowhere to be seen. 

Only then you looked around and noticed how Tom’s smile had turned into a grotesque grimace. The floor had turned red and your feet were wet. Blood. All over the floor. It was soaking up on the fabric of your dress. 

Hissing noises came from the bouquet in your hands. The roses had turned into snakes. You shrieked and tried to throw it to the ground, but your hand didn’t let go of it, no matter how hard you tried. Marvolo’s scornful laughter got louder and louder until you couldn’t hear anything else and you fell to your knees and screamed.

You sat up in your bed, your forehead covered in sweat. A nightmare. Just a dream.

* * *

The poor sleep had drained you. You slouched in the great hall during breakfast, nibbling on your second cup of tea, when headmaster Dippet placed himself in front of the teacher’s table.

“Good morning students,” the Professor spoke. “Just a brief announcement for your information. I’m aware some of you have already eagerly waited for the reveal of this year’s head girl and boy. Well, it’s my pleasure to tell you now.”

People had stopped talking and the great hall turned quiet. Dippet looked through the rows of students with a big smile on his face. He was probably more excited than anyone else in the room. Head boy and girl. Wow. You hadn’t even thought about that yet. Naturally, your mind had been somewhere entirely different. 

It would be someone from your year, though. Those were the school rules. The headmaster chooses two students from year seven. And, although most students didn’t care that much about the title, you knew that head girls and boys had always had an easier start into the world of employment after Hogwarts. It was a boost. An unspoken recommendation.

Dippet had always chosen students with top grades and little to no detention records. Mostly prefects, but not exclusively. For just a second you wondered if he had thought about you while making his decision. You had good grades. Nonsense, you had great grades. You never got in trouble, you were respectful, reliable, punctual and maybe a tiny bit full of yourself in just this moment. 

What were you thinking? You didn’t have the nerves or the time for being head girl. But it would feel so good to be valued this way.

Dippet cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him. 

“This year’s head boy, fellow witches and wizards, is,” he announced blissfully. “Tom Riddle.”

A murmur went round the hall when Tom arose from the table until Professor Slughorn, head of Slytherin, applauded for his student and the crowd joined in. Tom went up to the teacher’s table, where Dippet congratulated him.

It was quite clear why Tom was granted this title. He was Dippet’s showpiece. Always had been. Top of the class in most subjects, quiet yet observative, intelligent and he came from a well-respected family. 

“And now to our head girl,” Dippet said. 

No, this couldn’t be. It would feel like some sort of mockery if he would say your name. First the engagement and now this? No, no. Or maybe? You would make a great head girl, now that you thought about it. 

“This year’s head girl is,” Dippet went on.

Tom looked at you. Maybe he knew. Could it be? 

“Freda Morris.”

Oh. Your heart sank more than you liked to admit. Tom’s gaze went right to Freda when the crowd applauded for her. She stood up from the Slytherin table and clumsily walked to the front as well. Freda… What a swot.

“Congratulations you two,” Dippet said and shook both of their hands again. “I’m sure you’ll make a great team.”

Yeah, great. Superb. 

Freda and Tom shook hands as well. A wave of anger burned through your chest when you noticed how awfully sweet she smiled at him. 

* * *

“Two Slytherins as head boy and girl. Now that’ll be fun,” Camille said when you walked to your Potions class together. “Totally fair Professor Dippet, as always. Thanks for acknowledging the other houses.”

You smiled. “I know, right? And Freda Morris? What was he thinking?”

“Well, I don’t know. But she seems quite okay, doesn’t she?”

“You think so? She’s such a muppet.”

“Oh,” Camille laughed. “You wanted to be head girl, right?”

“What? No, I…”

“Come on,” she grinned.

“Yeah, maybe. I hadn’t even thought about it until today. And then I thought well, I would make a great head girl. Then Tom got picked.”

“And you thought it was destiny,” she enthused.

“Something like that,” you said and shoved her playfully.

You entered the Potions classroom and went over to the table Camille and you always shared. When you turned around to check where she was, you saw Tom talking to her. Camille nodded to him and then shot you a look. She winked at you and went to another table. Tom walked over and sat down beside you. Oh Merlin.

“Um, hello,” you said, still wondering what he was doing here. 

All it took was Tom raising his brow to make absolutely sure he didn’t like you one bit. He even seemed appalled that you had the nerve to talk to him. Why on earth would he sit next to you then? Alright, no small talk. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

Professor Slughorn entered the classroom and started his lesson by congratulating Freda and Tom once more. Your eyes too rolled once more. 

He then instructed everyone to brew Moonseed Poison, just like he had taught you in last week's lesson.

“And as always, help each other out,” he said and sat down at his desk.

Fantastic. You took a gurdyroot and started cutting it into small cubes, making sure not to breathe in right above it, as the fumes would burn your nose.

When you picked the knotgrass, Tom cleared his throat. You resisted looking over to him and kept on picking carefully. He cleared his throat again. And again.

You turned your head. “Are you trying to talk, or are you choking?”

“I…,” his eyes went wide. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the one looking at me weirdly when I greet you. So you probably don’t want to talk to me, do you?”

He sighed and started picking knotgrass as well. “I did… want to talk to you.”

“About what?” you asked and rolled the grass to make it cork-shaped.

“I wanted to apologize on behalf of Lestrange and Avery.”

“Oh,” you mumbled and finally looked at him properly.

“They won’t trouble you again. And, if it makes you feel better, they’ve learned their lesson.”

“What do you mean by that?” you asked and leant forward to put ten drops of leech juice into your cauldron.

“I punished them.”

You almost dropped the flask. “Punished?” 

“Nothing too bad. Although I think you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“Not really,” you grinned. “What did you do?”

“Just excluded them from our group for a little while. Separation is the greatest punishment for the spineless.”

He really was a ruthless leader. And they weren’t his friends. They were his inferiors.

“Wow,” you breathed. “And you did that for me?”

Tom crushed a toadstool and smiled. “I did it for myself. And you. If they disrespect you, they disrespect me. And I can’t let that happen.”

“I see,” you said. “Oh, don’t put the toadstool into your cauldron yet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s better to let the leech juice simmer for a little longer.”

“It makes no difference.”

“It does make a difference. And you need to grind it some more. It has to be really fine.”

Tom dropped the toadstool into his cauldron without batting an eye and looked at you provokingly. “I know what I’m doing. I’m good at Potions.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m great at Potions,” you said and watched Tom’s grin dropping with delight.

“I let Slughorn be the judge of that,” he said and you laughed.

Tom stirred his potion while you kept on grinding the toadstool. “Oh, congratulations on becoming head boy, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“Were you expecting it?”

“Not quite,” Tom said. “I mean, I have been thinking about it last year and was sure I’d make it to Dippet’s top three. But then I didn’t really think about it until today.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I thought he would make you head girl, to be honest.”

“Really?”

“Only for a moment. But then he said Freda’s name.”

The toadstool was as fine as sand already but you ground it even harder now. “Uh-huh.”

“She’s a git, isn’t she?”

“You think so too?”

Tom chuckled lowly. “As spineless as Avery and inane as Lestrange.”

“At last, we agree on something,” you said and put the toadstool dust into your cauldron. Perhaps hating other people was what you two had in common. “Don’t touch the moonseed. It’ll burn your skin.”

“I know,” Tom sighed. “I’m not daft.”

You smiled to yourself as you levitated the poisonous plant into your cauldron.

“There was something else I wanted to tell you,” Tom said after he had done the same. “My uncle sent an owl. Your sister. She’s better.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes. Still not cured he said, but she’s gaining weight again and has an appetite.”

“That’s great news,” you said and had to suppress the urge to hug him out of pure joy. “Merlin, I’m so happy right now. Thanks for letting me know.”

Tom stirred his potion and nodded. “It’s ready. Professor!”

Slughorn walked up to your desk and examined both of your cauldrons. “Oh, would you look at that,” he cheered. “Tom, yours is excellent.”

You could tell how proud Riddle was, especially after you had lectured him.

“But yours Miss,” Slughorn turned towards you. “Yours is perfect. Outstanding that one! Very well done.”

Even though you had known yours was better, you were afraid to look over and see Tom’s reaction. He wasn’t one to mess with. When you finally took a glimpse, you noticed him staring blankly down at the table, yet with the tiniest smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t say it,” he mumbled. “I get it, you’re great at Potions.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing!


	4. One and the Same

As the weeks passed and the weather in late October turned colder, the halls and chambers in Hogwarts stayed warm. It also seemed that somebody specific had warmed up around you as well. Tom didn’t ignore you anymore. Not completely at least. He was still distant, but you guessed that was just how he was. Progress, still.  
Camille was sure he liked you, even if he didn’t show it. You didn’t entirely agree with her, but it was definitely a start.

You had just thought of him when you walked along the shore of the Black Lake alone. Since Avery and Lestrange hadn’t dared to even look at you for more than a moment, you felt save enough to wander around on your own again. And you enjoyed taking time for yourself. To manage your thoughts in peace, while the wind howled across the water to keep you company. 

Tom must have been impressed by your potions skills. His demeanour had changed ever since you beat him making Moonseed Poison, even though you thought he was mad at you at first. You had lost count of how often you had thought about that smirk on his face and what that did to your stomach. It was almost embarrassing how many times you started daydreaming, how your mind wanted to drift off, and you let it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by someone calling out your name and hasty footsteps coming your way from behind. You stopped and turned around to see who it was. Benjamin Hilt. The Gryffindor boy from sixth year, who had already asked too many questions. 

He was quite short for a boy of his age, but it seemed like he didn’t care about it. He didn’t care about a lot of things apparently. He wore jeans a lot. A clothing item wizards would usually not choose as their attire since it was such a muggle thing to wear.   
You thought it was his way of revolting the system. A very subliminal way of showing his political views. His hair must have also been part of that. That, or he didn’t own a comb. 

Not that he was unpopular, he definitely had friends. They were all like him to an extend. Loud, candid and sometimes a bit scandalising. They liked to be the centre of attention, even if that meant they would go on everyone’s nerves. You have never had a problem with them. They weren’t your friends, but you knew they usually meant no harm.

“Hey,” he said, a bit out of breath once he caught up. 

“Hi Ben,” you answered and started walking again.

“Can I walk with you for a minute?”

“Sure. Did you come up with more questions for your investigation?”

He kept quiet for a moment and you grinned while looking out over the lake, where the tiniest waves rustled in the wind.

“No,” he then said. “I mean, yes. I mean… Possibly.”

“What’s your deal, Ben?” you asked. “Not to be mean, but none of this is any of your business.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. But I just can’t wrap my head around this. It kind of keeps me up at night. Doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Well if it doesn’t sit right with you, then, of course, we’re going to listen to you and throw all plans out of the window.”

“Don’t be sarcastic now. It’s a serious thing.”

“Oh really? Thanks for reminding me. Still none of your concern. And even if it was. What doesn’t sit right?”

“Two things actually,” Ben answered. “Firstly, I still don’t believe that you’re doing this of your own free will. I think he’s forcing you to marry him. And secondly, with your two families combined, Tom and his relatives will be given a whole new level of respect. And power.”

“So?”

“So? Don’t act like you don’t know what the Gaunts are all about.”

Of course you knew. Everyone did. And Ben was probably right. But what should you do about it now?

“Look, Ben,” you sighed. “I’m thankful for your concern, really. But it wasn’t forced. Tom and I… We love each other. And I’m afraid you don’t know him or any of his relatives as well as you think. They’re not seeking power. Or anything of that sort.”

You’ve never lied to someone like this before. Twisted the truth a bit, yes. Kept some information secret, yes. But this was the greatest lie that ever left your mouth. And Ben knew.

“Alright,” he said slowly and raised his eyebrows. “The Gaunts are dangerous, whether you believe it or not. Who knows what they’re capable of when they get even more respected in the wizard community. I thought you weren’t like them, you know. But seems like you’re one and the same.”

You didn’t respond. Maybe you really were like them. But what did Benjamin ‘knight in shining armour’ Hilt know about your life? You had your reasons and you weren’t going to share them with him. Who did he think he was? 

“I see you don’t want my help,” he said. “Just know, you can always ask for it when you change your mind.”

Then he walked off. And it made you angry. Not that you had anything else to say. But the mere fact that he thought he knew better than everyone else turned your insides sour. So much that you wanted to scream. But he would have heard you. So you kept it down and walked for a little longer.

One and the same. Sure. Like one of the Gaunts would do anything remotely similar than what you had done for your sister. What an idiot. And even if you accepted his help. What would he be able to do for you? Nothing.   
One and the same. If people wanted to see you like that, they should. But then, they should be as afraid of you as they were of Tom.

You thought of Elsie and your parents. They had sent a letter some days ago. Finally. A reason to keep going. To keep the facade. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about quitting. Now that your sister was better, you had thought that there would be a way that would lead you out of the pact. But the letter reminded you that there wasn’t. And what you did it for. Who you did it for. You took it out of your pocket and read it again.

“ _Dearest daughter,_

_we are delighted to let you know Elsie is doing much better. The Gaunts were a tremendous help. Morfin brewed several potions and one of them seemed to be the cure. Her cough stopped immediately and she is on the mend._   
_She is finally eating again, she even wanted to help the elves make lunch yesterday._

_I think she also grew half an inch over the last week._   
_It is an incredible joy to watch her laughing again. We wish you could see her now._   
_And we want to let you know, again, how thankful we are for what you did. Without you, Merlin knows what would have happened. We are so proud of you._

_However, Marvolo informed us that they haven’t broken the curse entirely._   
_He said if there will be any kind of breach or breaking of the pact, they can make Elsie sick again. And that it would be worse than before._

_We hope you know what that means and what is expected of you. We wish we could take that burden from you._

_All the best,_  
 _Mum and Dad_ ”

There was a little red heart scribbled at the bottom right corner of the letter, that Elsie had drawn. It made you smile each time you saw it. It reminded you of the countless times you had sat with her in the garden and had watched her draw random figures and shapes. She would always get angry when your drawings came out better than hers. But she never gave up trying. And you couldn’t give up trying either.

The sun went down earlier each day now, so you went back to the castle once you had walked off the anger in your bones. 

Tom sat there in the courtyard. He was alone to your surprise. Even though he didn’t talk much, he was usually with at least two other people, who competed for his attention. But not today.

“Hello,” you said and he nodded. You sat down at the stone bench next to him. “What are you doing?”

He looked at you for a moment, then leant forward and gazed into the distance. “Thinking.”

“Me too.”

“Really?” he asked sarcastically.

“What do you mean?”

“It didn’t seem like you thought of much when you were walking with Hilt.”

“Ben? Did you see us? Hang on. Did you watch me?”

“Does it matter? I just happened to take a walk towards the lake. Then I saw you two.”

“Okay,” you said. “Well next time feel free to join in. Anything to keep him away. Ben really gets on my nerves you know.”

“Sure,” he said, still not looking at you.

“What’s the matter now?” you asked and smiled. “You’re not jealous of him, are you?”

Tom shot you a look that could have possibly killed you. Your smile disappeared instantly and the wind suddenly felt icy.

“Because there’s nothing to be jealous about,” you went on. “I don’t even like Ben.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asked.

“What? No. I’m just trying-”

“Listen! If you’re going to be my wife, you must not give the impression of being unfaithful.”

“And being unfaithful means walking with anyone that isn’t you?”

“You know what it means.”

“So I’m not allowed to talk to friends?”

“I thought he wasn’t your friend.”

“He isn’t. This is not about Ben but in general.”

Tom stayed silent.

“You can’t be serious,” you said. “What do you expect me to do? Only ever speak to you, even if other people approach me? I didn’t even invite him. He just happened to be there all of a sudden.”

Tom turned towards you again and came uncomfortably close. 

“I. Don’t. Care. I expect you to be loyal.”

“I am,” you said but he stood up and left.

“Wait! You can’t just walk away.”

But he went. You ran after him, your frustration banging from inside your head against your temples. When you entered the hallways, quite a few people were around, some of them already looking at you. 

There he was, still walking away. You finally reached Tom and grabbed him by the shoulder, to make him look at you. He stopped abruptly and turned around, quicker than you had thought, so you almost bumped into him. A second of silence and staring occurred before you took a step back. Okay. Now was the time to get your point across.

“Listen,” you said quietly. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but I guarantee you that’s not what happened.”

“I know wh-”

“No, I said listen to me,” you interrupted him more vehemently and people’s heads turned your way, so you kept your voice low again. “Ben is not my friend. He came up to talk to me about us. I think he knows about the pact. And he wants to ruin everything. I’m not going to lose my sister because of him. So I tried to convince him. And if you think that’s being disloyal then so it be. I don’t care either. But never run away from me when I want to explain myself. And never distrust me again for no reason.”

That was the first time you witnessed Tom being speechless. So you left him standing there without another word. If people wanted to believe you were one and the same, you would make him believe it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing!


	5. Making believe

The news about your fight with Tom had spread across Hogwarts quicker than you had thought was possible. Three days had passed and you were sure even the teachers knew about it by now. And everyone seemed to know more about it than you did. 

You had heard stories about you hexing Tom in the hallways, about him threatening you there, about you almost drowning yourself in the lake, about Benjamin trying to kiss you, about you trying to kiss Benjamin. The list was endless. And none of it was true.

The way people looked at you made you angry to a degree where you had to control yourself not to smack them. Your anger was also fueled by the fact that Tom had not apologised yet. Three days. Feeling as long as three years when the whole school seems to watch your every move while you are waiting for your future husband to make up his mind. 

Those three words alone made your blood boil. Your future husband. Who certainly was the most conceited, hot-headed, mistrusting bastard on earth. Who you had agreed to marry for your sister. Who thought you would cheat on him, in this imaginary relationship, on the first chance you got. With Benjamin Hilt... Maybe he was also the daftest future husband on earth.

But nonetheless, you wondered far too often when he would finally walk up to you and apologise. You had even considered apologising to him just so you wouldn’t have to ignore him anymore. But that thought hadn’t lasted longer than a minute. He had to learn his lesson.

Tom’s friends seemed awfully aware as well. Although Avery and Lestrange stayed out of your way, some others made you feel like you were constantly observed. Almost as if they were his spies, telling him where he could go to avoid you. Tossers. 

The only person keeping you sane was Camille. She knew the truth and shut down every rumour that came to her ears. She had also tried to talk to Tom, much to your dismay. But he had ignored her completely. 

“Still no news on the fiancé front?” Camille asked when you sat with her in the courtyard. 

“Don’t call him that,” you answered. 

“Sorry,” she said but smiled. “I’m sure he’ll talk to you soon.”

“You think so? I’m not so sure. And I don’t really care.”

Camille laid her hand on your shoulder. “You don’t care, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Oh well… You talk about it an awful lot for someone who doesn’t.”

“You started it this time,” you grinned. Changing the subject seemed appropriate. She was right. “Do you want to study together around 5? In the library?”

“Sure. I still haven’t done the homework for Charms.”

“Me neither.”

You watched the people around the courtyard. They looked comfortable. Cosy with their scarfs on. Carefree, wandering around and talking to their friends. You wondered if you looked like them too. Or if they could see how bitter you felt. How uncomfortable and tired. If your poor attempt of faking indifference was enough to deceive them. 

The bench where you sat with Tom three days ago was right next to you. You had specifically chosen not to sit there but at the one next to it. Not that anyone had a clue, not even Camille knew which exact bench it was. But it felt good to avoid it. 

One of Tom’s friends, Evan Rosier, walked by. Another spy, another rat, running back to the nest, to tell him where not to go. He locked eyes with you for a brief moment but retracted ever so quickly and went inside. 

“It’s cold,” Camille said and pulled your gaze away from the other students. She rubbed her hands together and crossed her arms. “Want to leave?”

“Just a few more minutes,” you said and took a deep breath. The cold air didn’t hurt. It was sharp and fresh, it kept you awake.

“Okay,” she answered and laid her head on your shoulder. “Look, Ben and his friends are over there.”

They sat on the ground next to the stone walls, about fifty feet away. They didn’t seem cold either. Some of them had their coats open, their scarfs only hanging down loosely from their necks.

“They’re strange,” you mumbled.

“I know, right? Like outcasts. But cool ones.”

“Cool? I’m not sure about that.”

Camille laughed. “I don’t know. They seem so happy all the time. As if nothing mattered to them really.”

“If that was true, Ben would know how to mind his own business.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You turned your head away from them, looking to your left where you heard footsteps coming your way. And indeed, someone was approaching you. The person’s shoes seemed oddly familiar and all your muscles tensed when you looked up and found out who they belonged to. Tom.

Camille noticed your movements and looked over as well. Tom stopped in front of you, not saying anything, just looking from you to Camille and back to you.

“I, um,” Camille cleared her throat. “I think I’m gonna go inside. I’m freezing.”

You nodded, watched her leave, then looked up at Tom again and waited for him to say something. 

But he didn’t. He just looked back at you, or through you maybe, until he finally sat down next to you.

He sat there, staring straight ahead in silence, even though you gave him every chance to speak. The wind tousled his hair in those everlasting minutes of curiosity. What was he doing here, if he didn’t want to talk? 

People around you had noticed as well. They were looking over in turns and proceeded to whisper to each other. Like you wouldn’t notice.

“I have something for you,” Tom suddenly said and fiddled something out of the inner pocket of his coat. “My grandfather sent an owl.”

Seriously? Three days of silence and he came up to present you a letter? From Marvolo Gaunt of all people. The nerve of him.

“And?” you asked.

“And what?”

“Don’t you think you should say something first? Like an apology?”

He sighed and looked away again. As if he had known you wouldn’t let him get away with it. As if he had dreaded that moment.

“Yes,” he then said, so quietly you could hardly hear him. “I’m sorry for how I behaved. That I haven’t trusted you and that I didn’t let you speak.”

He looked like it hurt him physically to apologise. But it wasn’t enough. 

You turned towards him, watching him staring into the distance. “Now look me in the eyes and say it again.”

Tom turned his head your way, his brows furrowed, eyes looking into yours, filled with such anger, making you regret what you had said. You couldn’t tell if he would rather stand up and leave, or curse you right then and there for what you asked of him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated nevertheless.

“Thank you,” you answered and wondered if you should comment on how long it had taken him. Better not.

Tom pointed to the letter in your hands. “Now read it.”

The parchment was old and smelled damp and mouldy.

“ _ Tom, _

_ I was informed by an unknown source that people at Hogwarts are doubting the authenticity of your relationship with your fiancée.  _

_ Someone sent a letter and implied they would notify the ministry about it if we wouldn’t cancel the wedding ourselves.  _

_ Let me remind you two, that our plan must go through. If it won’t, the little one will pay for it. _

_ Improve. _

_ Marvolo Gaunt _ ”

Breathing felt harder all of a sudden. There was a lump in your throat that burned and stung right down into your lungs. If the ministry would doubt the validity of your relationship, they could definitely null and void the marriage before it even happened. Which would be fatal.

“Merlin’s sake,” you sighed. “Who would do that? Threaten your grandfather...”

“You don’t know?” Tom asked and looked over to the group where Ben sat. “I got a suspect.”

“Of course… And what are we going to do about it?”

Tom took the letter and folded it back together, not taking his eyes off Ben. “Let me handle him.”

“What will you do?”

“Nothing too bad,” he said. “Possibly.”

“And how does Marvolo expect us to improve?” you asked. “We can’t change what people think about us.”

“Make them believe. It’s not that hard to fool people.”

He was right. Tom might have been a prick, but he certainly wasn’t a fool. If rumours about your fight spread so quickly, rumours about you making peace would spread even faster. 

“Hold my hand,” you said.

“What?”

“We have to make them believe. Better start right away. There are lots of people around. Maybe we can even trick Ben and his friends.”

He restrained for quite a bit, then ever so slowly reached for your hand, still not looking at you. His skin was warm from being inside, almost hot against yours. He felt stiff and mechanical, as if he didn’t know how to behave. It was a bit uncomfortable, having your hand lying in someone else’s, who didn’t really hold it but simply let it lay there.

You adjusted your fingers and put them right against his, which made him turn towards you. His pulse pumped softly against the tips of your fingers. It was faster than you had thought and made you smile. Tom didn’t. But he looked at you, differently.

His brows weren’t furrowed anymore, the anger from before completely washed away. His eyes were open, studying your face with a deadpan stare until he squinted.

“You’re cold,” he said and brought his other hand around the back of yours, now properly holding it with both of his.

“I’ve been here for a bit,” you told him and looked around, letting his unfamiliar warmth spread through your veins. “I think it’s working.”

“Hm?”

“The people. They’re watching.”

Tom took a glance, his fingers twitching as he did. The other students turned away one by one when his gaze neared them. Even Ben and his friends had noticed but ducked their heads now too. 

Seemed that making people believe was actually easy. 

* * *

“And he really held your hand? Wow. Even I wouldn’t have guessed that,” Camille whispered when you told her about what had happened.

“I know, me neither,” you said while opening the Charms textbook. 

“And I wasn’t there to see it. Damn it. I knew I should have peeked around a corner.”

“Gross,” you joked and looked around if anyone could hear you. 

The library was quite full, but you had found a desk at the far end, where no one would bug the two of you.

Studying with Camille was, as unbelievable as it may sound, one of your favourite parts of school. It brought tranquillity and effect together. Feeding your brain with new information and sharing it with one another was a sensation you got nowhere else. You had done it since first grade and it had worked well ever since. No matter how dry, or tricky the material was, you had always found a way to remember. You were great together. Balanced. 

And she brought chocolate, every time. Major plus.

It had gotten dark outside a while ago when you finished the Charms essay. Only then you noticed how tired your eyes were from the dim light. Camille had completed hers two chocolate bars ago and was waiting for you by the window. 

“Done,” you sighed. “Finally.”

“Great. Let’s go then,” she said and started packing up her things.

“I haven’t proofread.”

“Oh,” Camille nodded and teetered from one foot to another.

“But you can go. Really. You’ve already waited for so long. I’ll just read it again and then I’m off.”

“You sure?” she asked.

“Yes. Somewhere you need to go?”

“The loo,” she whispered and you laughed.

“Then run!”

You rubbed your eyes and folded the parchment flat out under your hands. One more read-through and you were done. It was even quieter around you, now that Camille had left. The only things you heard were the librarian’s steps, as she tiptoed through the rows every now and then, and some quills scratching on paper from afar. It was a hypnotic silence, that made it easier to read. So easy, you didn’t even notice someone walking up to you.

The sound of the chair next to you screeching lightly over the floor was so startling, you almost knocked over your inkwell.

“Merlin’s sake,” you whispered as you screwed down the small bottle. “You can’t creep up on me like that. Almost ruined my essay.”

“Pardon me,” Tom said. “Who could have thought people had to be quiet in a library?”

You shot him a look to prevent yourself from telling him to keep his cocky jokes to himself. “What are you doing?”

He opened up a book, giving you the same look in return as if to say, what do you think people do in here. “Reading.”

“Alright then,” you said and leaned over your parchment again. 

Just a few more pages. But suddenly the words you had written didn’t make sense anymore. You had to read each sentence twice, to even understand what they meant. And you were awfully aware of your breathing. Tom made you nervous. 

It took you twice as long to read one page and the fact that you watched him from the corner of your eye every other moment didn’t help. 

Concentrate. Forget he’s even here. You had eventually found somewhat of a rhythm again, laying one paper aside, when Tom touched your hand.

You automatically jolted and looked over to him. He was still reading his book, now holding your hand firmer, more proper than earlier that day. It seemed like he wanted to finish this particular paragraph before he looked back at you. And the blank expression on his face said more than ever before. It was a mix between him waiting for you to pull away and simultaneously telling you not to dare to move. 

It was the same silence, the same tension that occurred when he had come for dinner at your house, when you were alone in the dining room with him. But yet, it felt so different.

So you held him, too. Quietly. Still staring at him. While no one spoke a word. 

Your fingers folded along the back of his hand perfectly, like they were meant to be there. 

And then, he moved. His thumb swayed back and forth across your skin, so lightly you could barely even sense it. So softly, as though he was scared it could hurt and break you. His eyes were fixated on you. He studied every breath, every flutter of your eyelashes, every muscle moving in reaction to his touch. 

And there it was. Something different in his eyes. Something more than the notorious apathy. A spark, a tiny hint of what you would call emotion. 

Something you had never seen on him. It suited him well. So you let him feast on it. For forever if he asked you to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing!


	6. Of Vows and Wrangles

Winter came suddenly this year, and so did Christmas. With all the schoolwork you had been doing for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s in June, the weeks had passed by as quickly as a snitch on the Quidditch field. The holidays were a much-needed break and to see your family again was an even bigger delight.

Elsie did great. She looked like nothing had ever happened to her. No curse, no illness that had almost taken her life. She ran around the house like the years before, excited for Christmas to finally come. The house-elves seemed glad to have her and all her shenanigans back as well. Much to your parent’s dismay, but they let most of it slide. They were thankful their daughter was healthy enough to fool around again. And so were you.

Christmas day was as cosy and joyful as ever. You spent the whole day with Elsie and your parents, exchanged gifts and played together. Elsie got her first broom and started her first attempt at flying, which resulted in a knocked over vase, that split into a million pieces, and a crash landing into the fireplace. Some tears were shed and dried again, and a “no flying inside” rule was established, which resulted in another crying fit. Oh, how you had missed it all.

Your mother had waited until the late evening to tell you that the Gaunts would come to visit for lunch the next day. She must have known that you would pepper her with questions again. It was necessary and polite, she said, to invite the future family and show them your interest.

There was certainly no interest to be given to Tom’s grandfather and uncle, but now that you thought of Tom, you had to admit that you missed him. How he had held your hand, how surprisingly cautious and gentle he had been. This memory was embedded in your brain. You would have expected anything but this from him. Anything but that soft and coy demeanour. Those minutes of proximity had told you more about him than seven years of school had. And still, it made you nervous thinking about meeting him along with his family again. They were the ones that must have made him so cold. So you fell asleep, anticipation and tension crawling through your every vein.

The Gaunts arrived in a rush and brought in a whiff of cold air that couldn’t even be drowned out by the fire in the chimney. Tom acknowledged you this time though. Not like months before when they had come to your house. You could have sworn that there was even a hint of a smile on his lips when he laid his eyes upon you. A smile that you reciprocated, rather faintly as well.

Lunch was alright. A lot of forced formalities and small talk, some tired attempts of getting to know the future family. Tom was quiet, as usual, only talked when someone asked him something directly, while Morfin and Marvolo ate so voraciously, the house-elves had trouble filling up their plates in time.

The Christmas spirit was spoiled when presents were brought up. Marvolo asked about Elsie’s new broom and why on Merlin’s green earth your parents would gift such a thing to a girl. He held back his laughter and shook his head when Elsie explained so excitedly that she couldn’t wait to learn how to fly in Hogwarts. Bastard.

Marvolo noticed the look you gave him and seemed to take it as a challenge, so he stared back at you, his filthy grin still in place. His head leant sideways as he waited for you to say something, his eyes squinted as if to tell you to go on and tell him what bothered you.   
How you would have loved to smash his face against the table or curse him into oblivion. Your teeth hurt from how hard you clenched your jaw. You couldn’t. You wanted to tell him so badly what an awful, disgusting, obsolete excuse for a man he was. But you mustn’t. He still had Elsie’s life in his hands. So you stayed silent when he whispered, “That’s what I thought.”

“Anyway,” your Father said in an attempt to ease the tension. “What are your plans for the remaining holidays?”

“There’s not a lot to do these days, is there?” Marvolo answered. “But now that you bring it up, we had something special planned for today.”

Morfin grinned as he shoved the last spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“And what is that?” Father asked.

“Well now that your little one is doing much better, which I assume you’re very thankful for,” he paused to wait for your parents to agree. “We decided to accept your invitation for today to bring our mutual pact to the next stage.”

Your Mother quickly told the elves to take Elsie upstairs, while you looked over at Tom questioningly, but he shrugged and shook his head, letting you know he didn’t know what was going on either.

“The next stage?” Father asked. “What do you mean by that?”

“Since we’ve done our part of the agreement already, exceedingly fast and precise might I add, and the wedding is still months away, we want to make sure we will get what we asked for. You see, I respect you and your family of course, but one can never be sure enough. We don’t want to be tricked or exploited. So we’re asking for an unbreakable vow. Between Tom and your daughter.” 

“A vow?” Mother was appalled. “What for?”

“For the marriage of course,” Marvolo said. “A promise that the marriage will be solemnized, that cannot be withdrawn from either side.”

Your breath got stuck in your throat. First the marriage and now this? If you agreed, the Gaunts would have both Elsie and you under their control. Infringing an unbreakable vow resulted in death and they would never stop asking for things if you agreed to this. 

“Marvolo,” Father began and sighed. “Don’t you think it’s enough? That we agreed to do this for the sake of my youngest child? You haven’t broken her curse entirely so you can use her as leverage. And now you expect me to bring my second child in mortal danger as well?”

“There’s no danger if the plan proceeds as we agreed,” Marvolo answered. “The vow can’t harm her if she plays by the rules.”

“She played by the rules,” Mother said. “She still does. Everyone’s been playing by your rules, so why do you want to add the vow?”

“As I said, I don’t want to be tricked. It’s merely a way to protect my family. And with all due respect, your reaction makes it seem like you’re up to no good already. Who knows? Perhaps you’ve changed your minds.”

Protect his family… He would sell both Tom and Morfin for a galleon and a half if he could. He was paranoid. You were still lost for words and didn’t want to speak, even though a million thoughts rushed through your mind. You knew every word that could possibly leave your mouth right now would be filthy and full of anger, and Marlovo was waiting for you to burst. 

He turned to you. “What do you say, child? Don’t you want to prove your loyalty?”

You sucked in a breath and were about to answer when Tom suddenly stood up.   
“Enough! I want a word.”

“You want a word?” Marvolo laughed disparagingly.

“Now,” Tom turned to your parents. “Is there a room we can go to?”

“The reading room, right across the corridor,” Mother said and showed them the way.

You followed the three men and your Mother and watched them enter the reading room. Mother turned towards you.

“Don’t eavesdrop, darling,” she said. “Give them some privacy.”

“Do you really think Marvolo deserves privacy?”

“No. He’s an awful man.”

“He is,” Father said as he joined you.

“We’re not going to let him do this to you,” Mother promised. “You’ve already done enough. Marvolo is out of his mind.”

“He’s greedy,” Father added. “Insatiable.”

You leant your head against the door to the reading room and pressed your ear onto it, trying to hear what they were talking about. Mother motioned for you to stop, but didn’t prevent you from listening.  
First, you heard nothing. Silence, then footsteps tipping across the room. Mumbled words that were so washed out you could barely understand what they meant.

Tom’s voice echoed from the walls. “You can’t be serious. Why would you ask for more? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Marvolo answered quietly. You could only guess what he was saying. Something like “Why would I?”

Mother appeared next to you. You grinned but didn’t say anything, knowing you had gotten your curiosity from her. She flicked her wand silently and cast a spell that diminished the sound barrier, so you could hear every word that was spoken inside the room.

“I’m not going to let you go through with this,” Tom said.

Marvolo snickered. “And you think I care what you’re allowing me to do?”

“I know you don’t,” Tom answered. “But I won’t comply. You can’t force anyone to make an unbreakable vow. Not even with the Imperius curse. And you know that.”

“What are you doing this for?” Morfin suddenly participated. “For the girl? You know things will only get worse if you refuse.”

A moment of silence occurred.

“Oh would you look at that,” Morfin chuckled. “You do like her, don’t you? Well, at least Father’s letter wasn’t in vain then.”

Tom didn’t answer.

“And her? How will you make her fall for you?” Morfin asked. “If you need a little love potion, I can provide that.”

“How dare you bring that up,” Tom spat. “You know I would never.”

“Well, Father,” Morfin went on. “Looks like Tom thinks he can do it all on his own.”  
“Now listen to me, son,” Marvolo said. “If you think you can disobey me like that, without any consequences, you must take me for a fool. To say that I’m disappointed is an understatement. Just know that there will be more to it.”

They scurried around. Marvolo and Morfin seemed to leave through the Floo Network. You assumed Tom would follow them but could hear him roaming around the room for another minute until his steps wandered towards the door.   
Both you and your mother stepped away quickly. Mother fixed her hair and you tried to come off as innocently as possible.

Tom stood in the door frame, chest heaving slightly and the doorknob in his hand.

“Grandfather and uncle left through the fireplace,” he said. “I’ll go too, I just need a minute, if you’ll allow.”

Mother looked at him like she looked at Elsie when she grazed her knee or hit her head. Her eyes weren’t as stern as you expected them to be, but soft and full of pity. 

“Why don’t you stay for a bit, Tom?” she asked. “We still have so much food left from lunch, we could need a bit of help before it goes to waste.”

Tom looked at her and nodded slowly. He must have known that she didn’t invite him to prevent wasting food. But apparently, he didn’t care what her reasons were. He just accepted it and you thought that was fair.

“Would you show him around, darling?” Mother asked you. “While I tell the elves to prepare the guest room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing!


	7. Gift Giving

“So this is the last part of the house. The bedrooms,” you said, after giving Tom a quick tour around the mansion. “The guestroom is right at the end of the hallway.”

Tom peered towards the half-open door to the guestroom, that the house-elves were preparing for him.

“This right there is Elsie’s room, next to it is the master bedroom. And this,” you said, leaning onto a door. “Is my room.”

He turned back to you.

“Want to come in?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

There was a sense of excitement in the air, letting Tom enter your room. It was something so private, it felt like you let him walk straight into your head. But you wanted to be nice. He still seemed crushed from the argument he had had with his grandfather and uncle and you thought it would make him feel better if you showed him he was welcome here.

“Take a seat if you want. Anywhere,” you said and went over to sit on your bed.

Tom slowly walked across the room towards your desk, his eyes incidentally scanning your belongings. He sat down on the chair by the desk and looked at the framed picture of you and your family that stood there.

“Sorry about my mother,” you mentioned when you noticed what he was inspecting.

Tom looked at you. “What do you mean?”

“She can be a bit brash, you know. When she asked you to stay earlier. But she usually means well.”

“Oh,” he spoke. “I didn’t mind actually. You know my family. They’re brash. And not the good kind.”

“Fair,” you agreed. “Have they always been that way?”

“Since I can remember at least.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry,” you then said.

“For what? That’s just how it is. They have their ways and I have mine.”

“Right. Did you know they would bring up the unbreakable vow?“

“No… I had no idea. They’re idiots. Just stupid. Why ask for more each time? They always want to be a step ahead for nothing.”

“What did you say to them?” you asked, hiding that you already knew.

“That I wouldn’t do it. They took our word for it then and that should be enough. They can’t force us to do a vow.”

“Are they mad at you?”

“Yes. But they’ll come around. It wasn’t our first argument and it won’t be our last.”

You pondered if you should say what you were thinking. Maybe it was a bit too much, but Tom didn’t seem bothered talking about his family. So you went on: “Do you ever wish it could have been different? To grow up with your parents, I mean. That would have made it easier, don’t you think?”

Tom smiled weakly, his eyes wandered across the floor and he shook his head. “Wishing for something won’t make it happen. And no. It would have been quite the same, I think. Maybe even worse.”

“Worse?”

“You’ve heard how Marvolo talks about my parents. His daughter and a muggle. A stain in the bloodline he said, didn’t he?” Tom chuckled lowly.

“But if they loved each other that shouldn’t have mattered to him.”

His eyebrows rose in what looked like a strange form of amusement. “Well, that’s a whole other story.”

You frowned. What did that even mean? You had heard all kinds of rumours about the Gaunt family and how Tom’s parents had met but never would have thought that one of them might be true.

“Have they-”

Tom shook his head as he got up, making it clear that he wasn’t going to talk about it. He walked across the room towards you, fiddling something out from the inner pocket of his jacket.  
You had gone too far apparently and wondered if he was pulling out his wand or wanted to leave, but as you opened your mouth again, he sat down beside you and looked into your eyes.

“I’m going to tell you,” he said. “Not now though. You’re going to know everything about me eventually. Someday.”

“Someday then,” you repeated. “What have you got there?”

He held the thing from his jacket in his hand now. It was a package that seemed a bit squished as if it had barely fit into the pocket.

“Hold on,” he said and waved his wand at it, to smooth out the wrinkles on the paper. It was a present, a rectangular box, covered in dark green gift wrap.

“I thought it would be impolite to come over for lunch without bringing at least a little Christmas gift.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” you said as he handed over the present.

“Go on, open it,” he said and motioned with his hand.

So you did and quickly found out what the package contained. A small handwritten book, full of potions recipes.

“Nicked it from my uncle when he wasn’t looking,” Tom said. “So you better don’t mention it to him.”

“Oh great,” you laughed as you flipped through it. “Wow, I haven’t heard of any of these.”

“None of them are taught in school. I thought you’d like them. Didn’t seem like the ones we do with Slughorn were much of a challenge for you.”

The book looked as if it had been used a lot. The thin black binder was frayed and faded, and the edges of the pages were crinkled. On every other page, the handwriting changed, so it seemed that many different people had written the recipes. Poisons, antidotes and bewitchments you had never heard of were all listed, neatly explained and completed with full lists of ingredients.

“Where did your uncle get this from?” you asked, still looking through it.

“I’m not sure. Knockturn Alley perhaps, or on some market. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had added a few ones himself.”

As peculiar as it was, not many people could say they got a book of dark magic and probably illegal potions for Christmas.

“What an unusual gift. I do like it. Thank you, really!” you said and opened your arms to hug him, out of pure habit, but froze when you saw his stern expression, your arms still open.

He looked into your eyes again, seemed to think for a moment and finally nodded to let you hug him. Just like when you had held hands, he was stiff and rigid, it felt like he was uncomfortable. You retracted, but as soon as you let go, he wrapped his arms around you and held you a little tighter, extending the embrace for a few more seconds.  
There was a ghost of a smile on his face when you sat back straight and he was about to say something when the door flew open.

Tummy, one of the house-elves, stood in the door frame. “Miss, the guestroom is ready. Mister Riddle, Sir, please follow me.”

“Great,” Tom whispered sarcastically under his breath, got up and followed the elf.

You quickly hid the book under your pillow and called after them: “It’d be nice if you could knock next time, Tummy!”

“Sorry Miss! Will knock!” you heard him from the hallway.

* * *

When Mother called for dinner in the evening you picked up Tom from the guest room and went downstairs.  
Sitting at the table together was a bit awkward at first and no one said anything. It seemed that your parents were still thinking of the incident from lunch, but didn’t want to talk about it in front of Tom. You didn’t know what to say either and Tom wasn’t one to talk much in general.

“Tom?” Elsie said all of a sudden, breaking the silence.

“Yes?” he answered and you looked back and forth between the two.

“Did you know I’ll go to Hogwarts too next term?” Elsie went on, a very proud tone in her voice.

He grinned while picking up some green beans with his fork. “I did know that, yes.”

“I haven’t gotten the letter yet, so technically I don’t know if I’ll get in, but my parents said it will come on my eleventh birthday.”

“I’m sure it will.”

He had barely finished his last word when Elsie asked the next thing.

“What’s your favourite subject?”

“Um… Defence Against The Dark Arts, I think,” Tom said. “It’s interesting enough.”

“Why?”

“Well,” he took a second to think. “I like to be prepared.”

“And you’re in Slytherin, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Do you have a favourite house?”

You caught your parents exchanging looks and smiling at each other.

“Um… Well,” Elsie began. “I think they’re all nice. But Gryffindor is the best I guess.”

Tom clicked his tongue and shook his head jokingly. “Shame,” he said.

“Do you play Quidditch?” Elsie asked.

“No, I’m not into sports.”

“But can you fly?”

“Yes, I’m a decent flyer.”

She looked at your parents for a moment and whispered to Tom: “Do you think you can show me? How to fly a broom. I got one for Christmas, you see. And I-”

“Elsie,” Father said laughing. “Let the boy eat, please.”

“No, I can show you,” Tom said. “It’s the least I can do to show my respect after you’re letting me stay here.”

“That’s very kind of you Tom,” Mother said. “And you can stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you. I won’t bother you for long though,” he answered.

Dessert was served and Elsie peppered Tom with questions about brooms until Father finally told her to leave him alone.  
You thought of the book he had gifted you and knew that your parents would be pleased to hear that at least one member of the Gaunt family had manners. They didn’t need to know exactly what it was about.

“Tom gave me a Christmas present earlier,” you said.

He shot you a quick look as if to ask you if you were out of your mind telling your parents about this. You ignored him.

“Oh really?” Father asked. “What is it?”

“A Potions book. Handwritten. It looks very rare,” you said and looked at Tom who was still staring at you. “It’s like an extended version of our school books. I can use it to perfect my skills. Maybe I’ll even get an O on my N.E.W.T.s because of it.”

“Oh lovely,” Mother said. “Where have you got that from?”

“Diagon Alley,” Tom lied and seemed to be more relaxed now.

“Very nice,” Mother said and turned towards you. “But you didn’t have anything for him, did you?”

“No,” you mumbled.

“Well, let’s talk about that another time. Tom, have you heard about the time when we went on a trip to Italy?”

* * *

Later that night, when you lay in bed, you pulled the book out from under your pillow and held it for a while. It probably wasn’t even meant to be so special, but the fact that Tom had thought of giving you a present for Christmas, was not what you would have expected.  
And you hadn’t even wasted a single thought about getting him something. How ignorant.  
You wondered how he felt about that. If he even felt about that, one way or another.

Your fingertip ran up and down the book spine countless times while you stared up onto the ceiling. You had to get him something. Something special.

And then you wondered if he couldn’t sleep either. If he wanted to talk for just a bit as well. If he thought about lying next to you, too. You could try to sneak out of your room and over to the guest room. Your parents wouldn’t like that of course, but you were going to marry him. They had to get used to the thought. And if you were quiet enough, they wouldn’t even notice.

You sat up slowly, put the book back under your pillow and tiptoed to the door of your room. Turning the doorknob as quietly as possible and holding your breath, you looked out into the dark hallway. You wouldn’t even need light, you knew this hallway like the back of your hand. Fifteen, maybe twenty quick steps and you would be right by the door to the guest room. So you took the first step out of your room.

“Miss!” a squeaky voice whispered in the dark from below.

It was Tummy, standing there alone.

“Tummy?” you asked quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“Miss, master told Tummy to keep watch all night. So that Mister Riddle wouldn’t disturb you in your room.”

Great. Your parents were a few steps ahead.

“Can Tummy get you anything, Miss?”

“No, I… I just thought I heard something,” you sighed. “Does Father really force you to stay up all night? You can go downstairs to sleep if you want to.”

“No, Miss, no,” the elf said and smiled. “Tummy sleeps right here on the floor. I have very good ears, yes. I hear every little noise, you see? I will wake up whenever I hear something and alert the masters.”

Unbelievable. They had thought of everything.

“I see,” you said. “But I’m not afraid Tom would disturb me. You really can go downstairs.”

“Miss, Tummy is thankful for your offer, but I must follow the master's order. Tummy doesn’t mind it.”

“Alright then,” you gave up. “Hang on though.”

You went back into your room, walked up to your bed and fetched one of the three pillows from there.

“Take this at least,” you told the elf and gave him the pillow. “It’s big enough for you to sleep on.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. Please.”

“I insist,” you said with a jokingly strict tone.

Tummy smiled, took the pillow and nodded. “Thank you, Miss. Tummy is very grateful.”

“Good night, Tummy.

“Good night, Miss.”

* * *

The following day went by quicker than you had wanted it to. Father, Tom and Elsie went outside in the late morning to give Elsie her long-awaited flying lessons. They were a great team, against all expectations. You watched them from the kitchen window and noticed how Father held himself back from helping. He kept a careful eye on the two when Tom showed Elsie how to mount the broom correctly.  
Elsie listened intently to everything Tom told her, tried to follow each step precisely and could properly hold herself in the air after a while. Father and Tom seemed incredibly proud, not only of themselves but of your little sister.

You could have watched them for hours, but Mother had called you to the reading room, to go to Diagon Alley via the Floo Network. You had asked her to take her with you since you wanted to get some new quills for school and a proper Christmas present for Tom.

Thankfully Diagon Alley wasn’t too busy, yet it took you a while to find an appropriate gift. You hadn’t even known where to start looking, but when you finally saw it in the shop window, you knew it was perfect.

Back home, Elsie, Father and Tom were just walking back inside, their cheeks and noses all plump from the hours they had spent out in the cold. Elsie jumped through the living room excitedly and told Mother and you how high up she was able to fly now. She had even attempted to do some advanced twists but almost had taken a fall.  
Father patted Tom on the shoulder and thanked him for his time, which made Tom’s ears turn almost as pink as his cheeks and nose.

After congratulating your sister on her achievement, you turned to Tom and said: “Would you follow me? There’s something I want to show you.”

You took him to the reading room, where the parcel you got him stood under the desk.

“Long day, huh?” you asked when you closed the door behind you.

He nodded. “Long but successful. Your sister is a quick learner. She could make it on the Quidditch team one day.”

“Thank you for teaching her,” you said. “We all appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Now that you were with him, you didn’t know where to start. Should you tell him about lying in bed with the book in your hand, thinking of him? That you almost would have knocked on his door in the middle of the night, if Tummy had not been there? That could sound terribly invasive. What if he wouldn’t have wanted you to come? Now that you thought about it, you were glad that Tummy had spoiled your plan. Nighttime certainly made you too reckless.

“I hope you slept well,” you mumbled mindlessly. Merlin, why would you say that?

“I um…” Tom looked at you surprisedly. “Yes, I did.”

“Good.”

“If it wasn’t for the elf in the hallway, it would have been even better,” Tom added nonchalantly.

How would he also know about Tummy? Did he leave his room too?  
You scanned him questioningly and Tom smirked.

“Father is overprotective,” you answered.

“Shame, isn’t it?”

“Certainly.”

You looked at each other, both with mischievous smiles on your faces. It would not have been awkward at all if you had gone over to his room last night. Tummy be damned.

“I thought of your present a lot,” you went on, changing the subject. “And I decided I had to get you something as well.”

“Not necessary. Your family let me stay the night, that’s more than en-”

“Stop it,” you snapped playfully and went to get the parcel from under the table. “There’s not a lot of things I thought suited Tom Riddle. But this does, I believe.”

He took the box with both hands, as it was quite big, placed it onto the desk and pulled off the top.

“Oh,” he breathed when he looked inside.

“Her name is Nagini. She’s not fully grown yet.”

Tom took a dark green, medium-sized snake out of the box and let it curl around his arm.

“Did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

“That I’m a Parselmouth.”

“Yes,” you nodded. “People in Hogwarts were talking about it years ago and then I thought of your house and your relation to Salazar Slytherin. It made sense.”

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, looking into your eyes before he watched Nagini gliding from one arm to the other. “Stretch out your arm for me.”

You did and let your fingers touch his. Both of you now stood there with one arm pointing towards each other. The snake slithered around Tom’s arm, quickly making its way towards his outstretched fingers and over to yours. It hissed quietly while wandering up to your shoulder.

“She likes you,” Tom said softly. “A lot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing!
> 
> PS: My boyfriend actually came up with the name Tummy for the house-elf. He also gave him a short backstory, so I'll try to implement that into the storyline if you're interested.


	8. Slughorn's Party

Coming back to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays was a lot easier this time. Now that you knew Elsie was definitely better, you could enjoy your stay and focus on your studying. Maybe you could also focus on Tom. Both things seemed equally important somehow. 

The fact that you could see your best friend Camille again added to the good things Hogwarts had to offer.

You were sitting on her bed in her dorm, telling her everything that had been going on during the last days. The Gaunts who had wanted to force you to do an unbreakable vow, their fight with Tom, that Tom had stayed for a bit, the book he had gifted you and everything in between. 

“I can’t believe you got him a snake,” Camille laughed. “What do you think his family said about that?”

“I couldn’t care less what they think of it,” you said jokingly. “Hopefully they’re mad at me.”

“Do you think Tom got in trouble for it?”

“I hope not. But I don’t think so. He knows how to stand his ground.”

“And the book he gave you?” she asked excitedly. “Do you think that it means something? It’s some sort of family heirloom after all.”

You lay down on your back next to her and thought about it. 

“I’m not sure. Do you think that was some kind of secret message from him?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll have to look into that.” You rolled over to face her. “And what have you done these days? Tell me all about your presents.”

“Well,” Camille said with a smile. “The presents weren’t the most exciting part of my holiday, to be honest.”

“What?” you asked. “Oh. Hang on, let me guess. You met someone! A guy?”

The smile on her face widened. “I didn’t meet him. I just kept in contact via owl.”

“Oh, Merlin! Who is it? Someone from school?”

She nodded.

“Go on, tell me!”

Her expression suddenly changed. 

“You have to promise not to be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“It’s someone you don’t exactly like,” she said, a thick tone of guilt in her voice.

Then you knew. 

“No. Don’t. It is Ben Hilt, isn’t it?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Oh, Camille,” you sighed and needed a moment to sort out your thoughts. “Why?”

“He is a very charming boy.”

“He’s a year younger than you.”

“So?” she giggled.

“He wanted to tell on me to the Ministry, so that I wouldn’t be able to marry Tom. Sticks his nose in everybody’s business.”

“He just wanted to help. He thought you were forced to do it. And you have to admit he wasn’t exactly wrong about that.”

“Have you told him about the pact?” you asked and gave her a serious look.

“Of course not. I would never. I told him right from the start that if he’s only after me to get information about Riddle and you, he could piss off.”

“And?”

“He didn’t piss off,” she said happily. “He’s a really nice guy. We never talked about you and Tom after I had made it clear it was none of his business. He didn’t even bring it up, to begin with. I would never date someone who would want to harm you, I swear.”

“Ugh, I know,” you groaned. “You’re too good. For me and for Ben.”

“Shut up,” Camille answered as she nudged your shoulder.

“Hang on. Did you just say ‘date’ someone? Are you official?”

“No. I guess not. But maybe someday. Now, what are you going to wear to Slughorn’s party?”

* * *

Slughorn’s annually belated New Year’s party was one of the few exclusive gatherings happening in school. Students could only attend if they had gotten a personal invitation, from Slytherin’s headteacher Horace Slughorn, who would invite his favourite pupil, or rather, the ones he thought looked best in his trophy collection. 

Camille, Tom and you had all gotten Slughorn’s owl. 

You had not known how to bring up the topic in front of Tom for a while. Even though you were going to marry him, that didn’t mean he wanted to go to the party together. Together, as in, on a date. And yet you had felt too weird asking him about it, so you usually had danced around the subject, awkwardly trying to find out if you were on the same page. Until he had finally said what you had wanted to hear. He had asked when to pick you up from your dorm as if it had been crystal clear to him, that you were going together. 

Seven o’clock, as arranged. It had arrived so soon. You hastily fixed the small wrinkles on the hem of your dress with a spell when you heard him knock on the door. Tom looked very posh in his black suit, politely offering his arm. And off you went. Together.

The guests at the party were usually students of year six and seven, as well as some teachers, so you knew most people there. Camille, who had brought Ben with her, looked absurdly pretty in her golden dress. Ben couldn’t have been more proud. He talked to Camille non-stop and really seemed head over heels for her. Right next to them stood two of Ben’s friends, looking all out of character in suits.

Avery and Lestrange came without dates and seemed awfully nervous for some reason. They whispered to each other every time you looked their way.

And then there was Freda Morris. Hogwarts’ head girl, who had her eyes fixated on Tom from the moment you had entered the room. You wondered if she had even noticed you next to him and if she was aware Tom was off-limits. Everyone knew by now that you were engaged after all. Either she didn’t know, or she didn’t care. The expression she sent you, after carefully staring you up and down, told you though, that she was absolutely aware of your relationship. She looked like she wanted to throw you out the next window.

“What in Merlin’s beard?” you muttered quietly to yourself after she had finally turned away from you.

“Pardon?” Tom asked and came closer so he could hear you better.

“Nothing. I just thought Freda was looking at me weirdly.”

“Really?”

“Let’s go over to Camille and Ben, shall we?” you asked, quickly changing the subject.

Tom’s gaze fell right on the two. 

“Your friend came with Hilt?” he asked sternly and began to walk their way. 

“Um, yes. About that,” you said, pulling lightly on his arm to stop him. “They’re dating. Kind of. They’re not official yet, but, you know, it could lead somewhere.”

He looked like you had just given him the world’s most unnecessary information. 

“What are you trying to tell me?” 

“That we have to be nice,” you answered and gave him your best fake smile, demonstrating what you wanted him to do.

“Nice?” he asked, gawking so blankly at you, it was almost comical. “You want me to be nice to Benjamin Hilt? After what he’s done?”

“Well… Yes.”

“Why?” Tom asked, genuinely not understanding what you meant.

“Because Camille is my best friend. And she likes him.”

Tom sighed.

“Answer me this,” he said. “Camille knows a lot about you, yes?”

“Yes.”

“I assume she knows about us,” he started talking more quietly. “Our pact?”

“She does.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

“So?” you asked.

“Isn’t it clear? He’s sweet-talking her to get information.”

“That’s what I first thought too. But Camille swore she wouldn’t tell him a thing. And she said she had made that clear to him from the beginning.”

Tom was still eyeing Ben sharply. 

“Come on,” you said and pulled him their way. “I trust Camille. It’ll be fine.”

“It‘s not her I don’t trust,” Tom said under his breath but proceeded to walk towards them with you.

“Good evening,” you said to them.

Camille hugged you and gushed: “You look so beautiful! Oh, you both know Ben, I believe.”

You offered him your hand and Ben shook it, an honest smile on his face.

“Fresh start?” you asked.

Ben nodded and turned to shake Tom’s hand as well. Tom looked at him seriously for a moment, inspecting his hand as if it was covered in Dragon Pox, until you nudged his side with your elbow, urging him to accept, which he reluctantly did.

Slughorn called for dinner before you could talk more, so you all went to the big oval table at the other side of the room.

Ben sat down left to Camille, you to her right and Tom on your other side. The three courses were lavish, as were all feasts at Hogwarts. 

Slughorn talked openly across the table, asking his students about their holidays. Freda, obviously trying to impress, mentioned that she had been to France with her family, which didn’t have quite the effect on Slughorn that she had hoped it would.

“Pathetic,” you mumbled and Camille chuckled.

“Mean, aren’t we?” Tom whispered, a grin forming on his face.

“Me? Never.”

He exhaled a laugh through his nose and slowly grabbed your hand beneath the table, taking you by surprise. You looked over to him, your fingers wrapping around his hand, then you pulled it upwards and rested both his and your hand on the table. 

“Now you’re just cruel,” Tom jested when Freda looked over and saw the two of you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you answered, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling. “I’m merely holding my fiance's hand. That’s not an act of violence, is it?”

“Fiancé?” Tom asked and cleared his throat.

“Aren’t you?”

“You’ve never called me that before.”

He was right. You had never called him that in person, or when you had talked about him to anyone else. 

“Well,” you swallowed, feeling a wave of heat on your cheeks. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Tom grinned and held your hand a little tighter while glancing down onto the table. “Sure.”

After dinner, the guests spread around the room, chatting and drinking punch while they waited for the first dance of the evening. Slughorn had pulled Tom aside a while ago, asking him for his opinions on different things concerning Potions, politics and the news. He visibly hung to Tom’s every word, clearly awed by his favourite student, nodded and agreed to most of the things Tom said. 

You turned your back on them and faced Camille and Ben, still hearing the two chat behind you and thinking of how well-spoken Tom was. He knew how to lull in every teacher by heart.

Each word that left his mouth seemed carefully crafted for Slughorn’s ears only and made him react just as Tom wanted him to. Impressive. 

You had engaged in a conversation with Camille and Ben, still keeping an ear on Tom behind you, when Slughorn finally set him free and wished him a nice evening. You expected him to join you, even though he still didn’t like Ben, but suddenly heard an all too familiar voice talking to him.

“Hello Tom,” Freda Morris said, sickly sweet. “How are you? How were your holidays?”

You shot Camille a look, to which she automatically checked the people behind you, eyes wide in disbelief when she peered back at you. 

“What are you going to do?” she mouthed silently.

“No idea,” you mouthed back.

Ben stared back and forth between Camille and you, completely confused until he finally noticed what you were whispering about. 

“Oh,” Ben snorted. “Someone’s looking for trouble.”

Alright. Freda had not given up on Tom yet. There was a knot in your stomach, pulling bitterly and twisting your insides. You tried to ignore it, took a deep breath and decided to listen to them first. Maybe you were overreacting. You could always jinx her later.

“Oh yes, Paris was wonderful actually,” Freda enthused and had pronounced ‘Paris’ in a weird French accent. “It’s so cosy there around Christmas, you have to go someday.”

“Sounds nice,” Tom answered, rather casually. “Well, if you don’t mind, I-”

“Oh, Tom, actually,” she went on. “I wanted to ask you. Don’t you think we should open the first dance together, as head boy and girl? It’s a tradition, after all.”

Tradition? You had never heard of such a tradition before. Camille and Ben, now eavesdropping too, were as dumbfounded as you. Camille was sincerely shocked, while Ben’s mouth was open, half laughing, half speechless, like a fish on land gasping for air. It seemed that you had not been overreacting, so you turned around, now facing Tom and Freda’s backside.

“I don’t know if that’s actually a tradition, Freda,” Tom said, looking back at you briefly, one side of his mouth pulling upwards.

“Philip Elms and Eve Sterling opened the dance at last year’s party,” she huffed. “They were head girl and boy too.”

“Correct,” Tom agreed. “But they were dating at the time, weren’t they?”

Freda didn’t answer.

“And seeing as we are not dating, I have to politely decline,” he said, again looking at you. “Now excuse me, I have to talk to my fiancée.”

Tom left Freda standing there and the four of you watched her wandering off. No one said a word, you could have sworn Camille was holding her breath until Ben burst out laughing.

“Mate,” he chuckled. “That was… Deadly.”

Tom didn’t laugh, squinting at what Ben had just called him, but nodded appreciatively before he turned to you, offering his hand.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Opening the dance? The music has just started and Slughorn told me I should do it.”

You shook your head amusedly, took his hand and let him take you over to the dance floor.

“For someone who accused me of being cruel, you’re doing a very good job yourself, you know,” you said, keeping an eye out for Freda, in case she planned on hexing you. Better safe than sorry. 

“Ah, she’ll be fine,” Tom assured. “Or would you have preferred if I took her to dance?”

You didn’t answer but shot him a smile when you arrived on the dance floor, where you got in position. Tom placed his right hand on your waist and took your right one in his left hand, holding both of them upright below shoulder height. All the guests had gathered around the floor, waiting for you to start dancing. Luckily there wasn’t enough time to get too nervous. It had all happened in a matter of minutes.

“You know how to waltz, right?” Tom asked.

“It’s been a while, but-”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll lead,” he said and took the first step, spinning in circles in three-four time.

Tom was a good dancer, which didn’t surprise you. He probably had taken courses some years ago, just like you, upon your parent’s request. You kept up with him quite well, only taking a wrong step every now and then.

“If I had known, I would’ve practised,” you mumbled.

“It’s alright, people will join in soon. You’re doing well,” he reassured you and lightly squeezed your waist.

That reminded you of the fact that you had never been so close to each other for more than a moment. Suddenly the spinning felt faster, all eyes focusing on you, burning holes right through you. The only thing steadying you was Tom and his hands.

You spotted Camille in the crowd, who was smiling at you, holding up her hand and giving you a thumbs up. That made you feel a bit more at ease, so you let Tom lead you round the floor, twirling away from people’s stares. Finally, halfway through the song, pairs of people joined in and filled up the dance floor, leaving not much room to be glared at.

Tom looked down at you, a proud smile adorning his face, his eyes softer than you had ever witnessed them before.

“What’s that I’m seeing there?” you asked. “A genuine smile? Certainly a rare sight.”

He swallowed, not changing the way he looked at you.

“Camille was right,” he said quietly.

“She usually is. But what do you mean?”

“Earlier, when we went up to them. She said you look beautiful. You do.”

People’s faces around you seemed to blur and you couldn’t hear them properly anymore. The only thing you saw was Tom’s face and how his eyes still stared down on you. It felt as if you weren’t dancing anymore, but rather floating above the ground, a swarm of butterflies emerging from your stomach. Your hand went from Tom’s shoulder behind his neck on its own and pulled him closer. Closer, just a tiny bit closer, so that you were able to view every single one of his eyelashes. His chest bumped against you and his cologne tickled your nose pleasantly. You let yourself sink into the smell of bergamot and lemon, feeling how his hand squeezed your waist a bit tighter by the second.

Closer, until you both shut your eyes and your lips met in the middle, kissing Tom right out there on the dance floor. You were the only people that had stopped spinning, even though it still felt like you spiralled around a hundred miles an hour. Butterflies turned into aeroplanes, rotating and crashing gently against each other, just like the two of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your previous comments! They motivate me so much to keep writing!  
> Please consider telling me what you think so far :)


	9. Never trust a Snake

Tom’s dorm was the nicest one you had ever seen in Hogwarts. Single bedrooms were offered to head boys and girls only, as a further reward to their title. His room was the size of a normal five-bedroom, but instead of four additional beds, it was furnished with a welcoming couch, a nice wooden desk and chair, a fireplace and provided overall much more space. It wasn’t located next to the other dorms either, which had its virtues and disadvantages. The good thing was that you didn’t have to walk through the hallway of all the Slytherin boys’ dorms to get there. The bad thing was that Tom’s room was right next to Freda’s, so you had seen her a couple more times than you had wanted to. She had never said anything though and usually stomped off right away, brows knitted and red in the face.

Tom had ordered you to his room the day after Slughorn’s party, which was a privilege not many students were granted. Maybe not that much of a privilege if one was engaged to him. But thinking of it from your perspective, his fiancée, who he hadn’t even proposed to, who he wasn’t even in love with when the engagement took place, it certainly felt special. And like he wanted you to be there. He let you study there even when he had to attend to his duties as head boy, which took up quite a bit of his time.

And then there was the Moly. A magical flower, used to counteract enchantments, that Professor Beery, the Herbology teacher, had given to pairs of students to take care of. They were weakest the last days before blooming and needed tending multiple times a day. It was a tricky task to keep them alive, so Beery had promised to give everyone who could manage it extra points for the Herbology N.E.W.T.s in advance. 

Tom had suggested keeping the Moly that had been given to the two of you in his room, as it would increase the chances of keeping it in good condition, seeing that no one else could get their fingers on it. Even though the plant looked quite healthy, he insisted on your help to look after it, as he was not willing to share points if you wouldn’t. So you had come to his room every day, only for the Moly of course.

Other times, when you were just reading or writing another Charm’s essay there, Tom used to stay nearby. He didn’t talk much, as per usual, and rather stared at you from across the room, but the fact that he never told you to leave and always asked when you would come back, for the Moly obviously, made it quite clear that he enjoyed your presence.

And you did too. So much that you had even spent the night accidentally. Accidentally, as in, you had stayed up way too long reading and making notes in your Guide To Advanced Transfiguration textbook, had really, absolutely, doubtlessly planned to go back to your own dorm, but couldn’t be bothered to get up from the sofa until you had finally fallen asleep. 

You woke up in Tom’s bed, not remembering how you had ended up there and sat up slowly, looking around, until you noticed him sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Have I overslept?” you asked, hastily fixing your hair and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“It’s Saturday,” Tom answered, grinning at your attempts of getting up. “8 a.m. You can sleep a bit longer if you want.”

“Oh, Saturday, yes. How did I… What happened last night?”

“You fell asleep on the couch. It didn’t look comfortable, you were all sprawled out and twisted. So I put you into bed.”

You swallowed thickly. He had put you into _his_ bed? 

“Did you-”

“No,” Tom shook his head. “I took the couch.”

“Noble,” you said sarcastically, leading him to roll his eyes at you. “Why can’t I remember how I got into bed?”

“I used a Levitation Charm.”

“Oh. Weren’t you afraid I might’ve ended up on the floor?”

He chuckled, shaking his head as if doubting his skills wasn’t a thing Tom Riddle would do. “I tend to know what I’m capable of before I do it.”

“I see,” you answered. “Come here then?”

Tom looked at you questioningly before you reached out your hand, holding it in the air for him to take it. He did and you slowly pulled him closer, until he lay down next to you.

Your hand went up to his face and you ran your fingers through his hair, to which he closed his eyes, letting you play with his locks for a while. 

Now that you were fully aware of where you were, you noticed how different Tom’s linen smelled compared to your own. They had his clean, warm scent, of tangy embers dying in the fireplace, mixed with leather and something fresh like dewy iron. The scent had rubbed off on you while you had slept there and it felt like he had marked you, without even coming close.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” you whispered.

His eyes opened again. “You were completely knocked out. That would have felt off.”

“Well, for next time then,” you smiled, took his chin between your fingers and pressed a kiss to his lips. “We’re engaged after all. Have you forgotten?”

“Oh piss off,” he scoffed and pulled you in for another kiss.

* * *

Some hours later, when you were tending to the Moly, you looked over towards the fireplace, where Nagini was sleeping in front of. At least you assumed she was sleeping. Her eyes were open and her tongue flicked out of her mouth every now and then, but she seemed calm. You laughed to yourself at the sight, as it reminded you of a cat seeking warmth. Well, a pet was a pet, you figured.

“How’s the Moly doing?” Tom asked and went up to inspect it.

“Good. Great actually,” you said. “I think we’re going to earn those extra points from Beery.”

“Don’t you think it looks a bit sickly?” he asked, holding the thin black stem between his fingers.

“No, it’s alright.”

He uttered a humph. “You don’t have the book on you, the one I gave you for Christmas, do you?”

“No, it’s in my dorm. Why would you need that now?”

“Have you read through it? All the way?”

“No, I haven’t yet. I just flicked through it and read some recipes that sounded interesting,” you answered, not knowing what he had in mind. “I wanted to try one of the Potions after we’re done with school. They all seem to take a while.”

“Which one?”

“The Vial of Auras for starters. Why?”

He nodded, still looking at the Moly. “I think there’s a recipe for plant cultivation in there. Could be of use.”

“But it looks fine, why-”

He turned his face toward you, looking into your eyes. “Just bring the book next time.”

“Okay,” you said, although it sounded more like a question. “I can bring it tonight. I’m going out to Hogsmeade with Camille in the afternoon. I’ll be back around 7 I guess.”

“That’ll do,” he said and smiled, finally sounding satisfied.

* * *

It was five minutes past seven when you returned to Tom’s room. The date with Camille had been wonderful, although you had had one too many toffees at the sweet shop. You had also gotten the Potions book from your dorm, still wondering why the Moly would need extra support. It looked totally fine to you. 

Tom’s room was empty, aside from Nagini, who had curled herself around one of the bedposts. You went over to the desk, where the Moly was standing and put the book beside it. Next to the plant lay a handwritten note:

“Coming back soon - Dippet needs me for head boy duties”

Killing time it was, then. You took Tom’s Charms book from the stack and practised a few spells for a while, trying to revise those that would most likely be tested in the N.E.W.T.s. About ten minutes later, the door opened and Tom entered the room. He dragged his feet as he shuffled in and was slightly out of breath.

“Are you alright?” you asked while putting the Charms book away.

He nodded. You walked over and took a seat on the couch, patting the space next to you for Tom to join you.

“I brought the book,” you said and pointed towards the desk.

Tom sat down, looked at it from afar and squinted. “The book?”

“The Potions book you asked me to bring. Don’t you remember?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry, I totally forgot.”

You frowned, slightly worried. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tom nodded and scratched the side of his face. “Yes, yes. I’m just a bit tired.”

Tired wasn’t exactly what you would have described the state of him. He seemed nervous and completely out of it, his shoulders hanging down limply. 

“Did something happen? What did you have to do for Dippet?” you asked.

His eyes roamed the floor while he pondered. “Nothing important. Just some scheduling for the prefects.”

Something cold rubbed against your foot and when you looked down, you saw Nagini, who had slithered over. She placed herself between Tom and you on the floor, her hisses a tad louder than usual.

“What does she want?” you asked.

Tom stared at Nagini vacantly and didn’t answer.

“Tom?” 

“Hm?”

“What is she saying?”

“She’s hungry.”

“Hungry? We’ve just fed her recently. Strange,” you said and bent down to pat her head. “I’m going to get you some more mice soon, don’t worry.”

Tom’s gaze roamed the room as if he was looking for something.

“Do you want to take a look at the book now? For the Moly?” you asked.

“No,” he answered. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead then.”

“You remember the day we got engaged, right?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, it was obviously an arrangement between our families,” he stated, waiting for you to confirm. 

“Yes.”

“So I was wondering… What’s in it for you?”

Your stomach dropped. What did he mean ‘what’s in it for you’? Your sister’s curse was the most evident thing in this whole situation.

“You know exactly what’s in it for me,” you said while folding your arms. “Actually, I could ask you the same thing. Don’t tell me you forgot why we’re doing this.”

He took a moment to think before answering. “Of course I haven’t. I just thought there could be something else. Like, perhaps your parents bribed my family.”

You blinked irritatedly. He had not just said that.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked. “You’re suggesting my parents took advantage of the situation, went and killed two birds with one stone? So that they could marry me off and make me your problem?”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then retracted. “No, I didn’t mean-”

“Because I’ll have you know, my family would never do such a thing,” you interrupted him. “I know yours probably would, but my parents are not like that, believe it or not. I thought you knew that by now.”

“I was just wondering. No need to make a fuss about it.”

“You know what?” you said and got up from the couch, making sure not to step on Nagini. “You sound exactly like Ben. Only more rude. And I thought you didn’t trust him. But it seems that you don’t trust me either all of a sudden.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tom said and followed you. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“We’re done here,” you huffed, making your way to the door, followed closely by Nagini, until Tom grabbed your hand.

“Don’t leave now,” he said, pulled you in a bit closer and a whiff of cologne wafted your way. He reeked of sweat and coughed so loudly you thought he might throw up any moment.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Tom,” you answered, your hand still in his. “Maybe you have a cold coming on or something because you don’t seem like you’re in your right mind. Now let me go.”

“No,” he said but turned his face away from you.

Suddenly the door flew open and you sucked in a sharp breath when you saw who it was. Tiernan Lestrange. And next to him was... Tom? Standing in the door frame, his eyes darting back and forth between you and… You looked to your left, to the person next to you and saw that Emlyn Avery was standing in Tom’s place, still holding your hand.

You wrenched your hand out of his grip and took several steps backwards.

“Avery?” you asked. “What is going on?”

Tom, the real Tom, still stared at you, a fire burning behind his eyes as he quickly walked into the room. Lestrange followed and closed the door behind himself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tom hissed, both at Avery and you.

Avery kept silent, a nasty grin forming on his face.

“He… You,” you stammered.

“You two? Holding hands in _my_ room?” Tom yelled, his chest heaving. “Are you kidding me?”

“I can explain.”

Could you really?

“Well, I hope you can. Taking Avery into my room to do who knows what? Care to explain that?”

“He was you!” you said, only then noticing how crazy you must have sounded. 

Tom shot you a look that told you better not to take him for a fool. His thoughts must have raced at top speed inside his head, as you could practically see him thinking. His eyes scurried from your hand to Avery’s, then up to his face. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he clenched his fists and he couldn’t seem to stand still. You wondered what his next move would be. Punch Avery in the nose, curse the two of you, or rush out of the room? It reminded you of the time he had seen Ben and you at the Black Lake. 

“Please,” you whispered. “Let me explain.”

Tom sighed and avoided looking at you. He shook his head as if he was fighting an internal battle against himself. It almost looked painful. Finally, he went up to Avery, pointing his wand right below the boy’s chin.

“Sit down,” Tom spat. “You too Lestrange! And I don’t want to hear a single word from either of you.”

They did as he said and Tom led you to the other side of the room, followed by Nagini. He cast a Muffliato Charm on the two boys so that they wouldn’t be able to hear what you had to say. 

“Go on,” Tom then said, still avoiding eye contact.

“I came here around seven, as we agreed. I brought the book but you weren’t here. Then I saw your note on the table and waited for you. You, I mean Avery, came in shortly after. But he looked exactly like you. Just until you showed up right now. I swear to Merlin.”

“What do you mean he looked like me?” Tom asked, an annoyed frown on his face.

“He looked and sounded just like you. I thought he was you. He acted weird and I didn’t trust him, but I thought you were just stressed out. The only way I could possibly explain this would be Polyjuice Potion.”

“You don’t really think one of them would be able to brew that correctly, do you?”

“I don’t,” you mumbled. “But how else would it be possible? You have to believe me. I would have never brought him here. Or anyone.”

He looked at you now, so intensely, it felt like he was reading your thoughts, trying to see if you were lying to him.

“Why would he do that?” he then asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered and gave it a good thought. “He asked me about some things. About the engagement. Maybe he was trying to convict me. They haven’t trusted me ever since the school year began, remember?”

Tom nodded and exhaled strongly, walking in circles around you.

“Did he touch you?” he asked.

“No. He just held me back when I wanted to leave. Just my hand, nothing else.”

“Are you sure? Don’t lie to me. If he touched you, I swear I’m going to-”

“No. He didn’t.”

Silence. Nagini’s quiet hisses disrupted your thoughts and you noticed that Tom seemed a lot calmer now.

“Why was Lestrange with you?” you asked.

“He came up to me when I was done at Dippet’s. Tried to babble on for ages about assignments.”

“That makes sense. So you wouldn’t disrupt their plan.”

“What did Avery ask you exactly?”

“If my parents had bribed your family. So we would get married.”

“Idiot,” Tom muttered.

“That’s what I thought too.”

Tom eventually stopped circling you, placed himself beside you and you both watched Lestrange and Avery sitting next to each other on the sofa. They didn’t dare look back at you and simply stared down at the floor like two ten-year-olds waiting for their parents

to punish them.

“Oh, and another thing,” you began. “Avery stinks.”

Tom, to your surprise, laughed.

That made you a bit more confident, so you asked: “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

He did? You looked at him, taken aback.

“Nagini,” Tom said to you while watching as the snake’s head reared up. “She’s your witness. She confirmed you’re telling the truth.” 

“Good girl,” you said and smiled at her, to which she hissed happily. You really had to get her some more mice. “Now, what were they thinking? What point were they trying to prove?”

“Let’s ask them,” he said, broke the Muffliato Charm with a swift motion of his wand and walked over towards the couch.

“I’m going to ask you some things,” he said to them. “And don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can tell. You’re lucky you caught me on a good day, actually.”

They both nodded.

“Polyjuice Potion?” Tom asked.

Avery looked over to Lestrange. They both nodded again.

“Where did you get that from?”

“Stole it from Slughorn,” Avery mumbled so lowly, you could hardly understand.

“Speak up!” Tom ordered.

“We stole it from Slughorn’s stock,” Avery repeated. “At the party, when everyone was dancing.”

Tom sighed and pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose. Of course they hadn’t brewed it themselves. They were far too daft.

“Why?” Tom went on. “What’s the reason for all that?”

“Well,” Lestrange cleared his throat. “We were only doing it for you, Tom. To make sure she’s not betraying you. To find out if she and her family were using you, you know.”

“So we could help you,” Avery added and nodded vehemently.

Tom grinned coldly. “And you thought I wouldn’t have found this out myself by now? That I would need _your_ help? Seriously?”

“We thought-”

“No! You didn’t think at all,” Tom interrupted. “You went behind my back, stole from a teacher and disrespected my fiancée. You’re both an embarrassment for Slytherin and I swear, if I ever see one of you just looking her way, it’s not going to end this lightly.”

Both of them nodded again and looked down onto the floor, not saying anything.

“Now follow me,” Tom said, still angry with them.

“Where are we going?” Avery asked as he got up.

“I’m going to report you to the headmaster of course. And trust me, you’ll be glad Dippet is going to choose your punishment and not me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this chapter was exciting to write! Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Thank you for reading!


	10. Mors Grano

The days after Avery’s poor attempt of gathering information went by quite eventfully. Not only had Avery and Lestrange almost gotten expelled by Dippet for what they had done, but had received the worst detention you had ever heard of. 

Every day, up until the N.E.W.T.s would start, they had to help Mr Carpe, Hogwarts’ caretaker, to clean every last bit of the castle. Without magic of course. And when they weren’t scrubbing floors, cleaning windows, or polishing trophies, they were copying the school rules on parchment, by hand. The amount of paper they had to fill looked like it wouldn’t even fit into an entire classroom, had it not been rolled up. 

Even if they still wanted to, their new schedule didn’t even give them enough time to trail, or even think about you. They barely had enough time to finish their homework before tumbling into their beds.

You would have felt sorry for them, but Tom’s snarky grin, which he wore every time you saw the two in the hallways, reminded you that you didn’t have to. 

Thank Merlin you hadn’t told Avery much when he had disguised himself as Tom. You had just confirmed that the engagement had been arranged but thankfully hadn’t said anything about your sister. There had been worse rumours going round about Tom and you. 

Camille almost didn’t believe you when you told her what they had done. After a lot of head shaking and “no, they didn’t”s she just stared at you with her mouth open and proceeded to laugh for a full minute or two when you told her about their punishment. 

It was a lucky coincidence that she had found an interest in Ben, as she didn’t mind now that you were spending a lot more time with Tom. She was preoccupied as well by the looks of it. 

After the accidental sleepover, you had stayed in Tom’s dorm overnight more often. Not on accident though. It had become a routine to you, to have another quick chat with Camille after classes, arrange some dates for when you wanted to study together and then make your way to the Slytherin common room, where Tom’s dorm was.

Tom was sitting at his desk when you entered the room, apparently deep in thought and studying the Potions book he had gifted you.

“Alright?” you said when you closed the door.

He nodded as you went up to him.

“Found anything interesting for the Moly?” you asked. “It still looks quite healthy to me.”

“Not really,” he answered and turned towards you. “Nothing specific.”

“Oh, I just got an owl from my parents. ” You crammed the letter out of your bag and handed it to him. “They’ve fixated the date. For the wedding.”

Tom read the letter quietly, his eyebrows twitching slightly once or twice.

“June 30th,” he said.

“That’s only one day after we graduate,” you stated and tried to lighten the mood by joking. “Seems like they can’t wait for the big day.”

He nodded as he gazed into the flames inside the fireplace, a tiny grin pulling on the edge of his mouth before he looked up at you. “Can you?”

To prevent the chuckle that built up inside of you from bursting out, you took Tom’s hand, lightly pulled on it and gestured towards the couch, where you wanted to sit. He closed the Potions book, but kept one finger inside it and took it with him when you led him over.

“Well, I don’t know,” you said as you let yourself fall onto the cushion. “It still doesn’t feel real, does it?”

“True,” he simply agreed. 

“I can’t wait to try on the dress, though. That’ll be exciting,” you went on and noticed him smiling. “And then there’s the most important part, of course.”

He gave you a look as if to say he didn’t know what you meant.

“Elsie,” you explained. “Your uncle will lift her curse completely then. Or so I hope at least.”

Morfin had to, didn’t he? It was part of the pact after all. Tom and you would get married so that they would free your sister. As much as you wanted to believe that the Gaunts were trustworthy, there had been a nasty sting in your stomach ever since the engagement. Would they really give up, even when they had won? They wouldn’t be able to control you anymore afterwards, or Tom, or anyone but themselves. Marvolo’s filthy grin appeared in your head. Would he ever give it a rest?

“He will free her, won’t he?” you asked.

Tom looked into your eyes for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Well, it’s what they agreed on.”

“But?” you asked. 

“But,” he went on, “You’ve seen how they are.”

An invisible weight seemed to pull on your limbs and the sting in your stomach got more intense. 

“They’ll never let go,” you breathed. “But how-”

Tom shook his head and exhaled slowly. “I have to show you something.”

He gave you the Potions book and opened it at the page where he had put his finger before. “I thought you’d come across it on your own, but as I noticed you wouldn’t… Just see for yourself.”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering what Morfin’s book had to do with anything, before looking down at it. Tom pointed at a recipe, written in scrawled handwriting:

 _ **Mors Grano or The Dust Of Slow Death**_  
_The dust is used to be scattered over an item and will cling to the first person that touches it._  
Vanishes the second the victim comes in contact, which makes it very hard to be detected and cured.  
Victims will suffer from a distinctively harsh cough, as well as pain and flu-like symptoms, which will worsen each day, until they become fatal. Average time until death is around three weeks after the first encounter with Mors Grano. In most cases, the victim will lose their life before the appropriate antidote can be given. 

You didn’t bother reading the list of ingredients, as your hands were shaking far too much to even detect another word. You had heard of Mors Grano before. Professor Dippet had brought it up in History of Magic when you had learned about the Passing of Men in 1760. Hundreds of witches had poisoned their abusive husbands with it when the dust had been invented. It had taken years to figure out what had caused such an increased amount of deaths, which happened to involve male wizards only. The potion and most of its ingredients got banned afterwards and you had never heard of another case since.

Until now. It suddenly all made sense. The Gaunts had sent the letter and had coated it with Mors Grano. They had known how to cure Elsie all along and had patiently waited, days and weeks, had let your sister suffer until Father had contacted them. No wonder the owl had given the letter to her, even though it had been addressed to Father. They had specifically chosen her. A ten year old, innocent, little girl. 

You weren’t sure if you had to throw up, or just needed to punch something really hard, but your stomach did twists and turns that you had never felt before. A thin layer of sweat had formed on your forehead and your hands were still shaking.

“They…” you whispered. “And you knew?”

Tom swallowed thickly. “I didn’t at first. But then I came across it when Morfin prepared the poison.”

“And you never told me?” you asked, your voice loud and on the verge of breaking, while you attempted to get up from the couch.

“Let me explain,” Tom said and grabbed your hand. “Sit down.”

“What is there to explain?” you asked, trying to pull away from his grip. “You’ve known for months. Even before your first visit. Before Elsie got sick. And you never tried to prevent it, nor did you tell me.”

Tom’s grip around your hand got tighter the more you tried to get him off you. “I said let me explain. I let you explain yourself when I saw you with Avery, didn’t I? Imagine I just ran away then. Now sit down.”

Finally, Tom’s grip loosened, allowing you to tear your hand away from him. Not knowing what to think or say, you sat down but couldn’t bring yourself to even look in his direction.

“Yes, I knew,” he began with a sigh. “And I didn’t care until I found out what they wanted to use the potion for. But I couldn’t tell you. Or anyone. I still can’t. I’m unable to talk about it. They were a step ahead. Understand?”

The Gaunts were a step ahead. They always wanted to be. Just like on Christmas Day, when they wanted you and Tom to do-

“An unbreakable vow?” you asked with wide eyes. “You had to vow not to tell anyone.”

He nodded. “I vowed not to tell. But I didn’t vow not to show.”

He turned one page inside the book and handed it to you again.

_**Mors Grano - antidote** _

_Ingredients:_

  * _The skin of a snake_
  * _2 fresh Foxgloves_
  * _3 blossoms of a Moly_
  * _4 drops of Moondew_
  * _5 tears of a Banshee_



“The antidote,” you mumbled. “Full with an ingredient list and instructions. Morfin brewed it already then? They gave it to Elsie, otherwise, she wouldn’t have gotten better.”

“He didn’t complete it,” Tom answered, apparently trying not to say something that would interfere with the vow.

“He left out something? They gave her an unfinished antidote?”

Tom nodded. 

“The tears?” you guessed, solely because it was the most powerful and rare item on the list.

“I’m not sure. They never let me into his chamber after the engagement.”

“Can we… Can we steal it from him? And add the last ingredient?”

“Marvolo has the flask on him at all times. He’s suspicious, even of Morfin.”

Bloody hell. Marvolo’s paranoia was a real pain. You scanned the antidote again, thinking of all the ways you could get your hands on that potion.

“But I could brew it myself. Most of the ingredients are easy to find. Foxgloves are for sale in Diagon Alley, I’ve seen them countless times. The Moly, we have it here,” you listed and looked at it standing on the desk, finally realising why Tom had tried to keep it alive so badly. “Snakeskin from Nagini. We just wait for her to shed. Moondew and the Banshee tears will be tricky, however.”

Tom nodded at every new thing you had said. “You figured it out.”

Your stomach had stopped squirming at the glimmer of hope you had for saving Elsie. You carefully read the recipe for the antidote again, understanding how long it would take and how hard it would be to get the potion right. If everything went well, it would be finished mid to late June at the earliest. Besides, Slughorn had never taught you such advanced techniques. 

Now that you were thinking of your Professor, it began to dawn on you. “Do you think Slughorn has Moondew and Banshee tears in his chamber?”

“Possibly,” Tom answered. “But do you really want to steal from him after what Avery and Lestrange did? I’m sure he’s got it all locked up in his office now.”

“Well, I have to try. Where else would I get those things from? And I better try soon. The antidote will take months to make as it is and the earlier I start, the better.”

Tom took the book, got up from the couch and put it into the drawer of his desk, closing it shut slowly.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“We’re going to Slughorn then, aren’t we? Come on.”

You followed him out hastily, trying to sort out your thoughts. Frankly, you had not expected to get the ingredients _this_ quickly.

“Wait, how are we going to do it?” you asked, struggling to keep pace. “We can’t just sneak in and grab the things we need. He might be in there.”

“Even better then,” Tom said, not deigning to look at the other students strolling along the hallways. “I talk, you get the stuff.”

As Slughorn’s office was located on the sixth floor, it took some time to get there. Your mind was still racing around the facts you had just been given and you needed to talk about it.

“I can’t believe they made you vow,” you muttered. “Marvolo and Morfin are…”

“Bastards,” he finished your sentence when you stepped from one of the moving staircases to another. “I’m aware.”

“Well, yes they are.”

You were the only people on the staircase, floating higher up towards your destination. Tom looked over his shoulder to double-check if anyone could hear him.

“You know what,” he said pensively. “I actually expected people to ask me what I, or my family, had done to make the engagement happen. Seeing as it was them who got the ball rolling. But everyone suspected you. They all thought your parents bribed us.”

You thought about what to answer for a moment. A sour smile had formed on your face. One that, for all you knew, every woman had worn at least once in her life. 

“A woman's intentions will always be questioned a hundred times harsher than those of a man, Tom. What else is new?”

He pressed his lips together, nodded and kept quiet until you reached the sixth floor.

“Wait,” you said and got a hold of his hand when you had entered the corridor of Slughorn’s office. “I wanted to thank you. For helping me. The book, the Moly and now this. You know you don’t have to.”

He squeezed your fingers lightly in response. 

“Trust me, no one hates Marvolo and Morfin more than I do. If I can make their lives a bit harder, I’ll gladly do it. And besides, I want to see your sister become Quidditch captain one day. That will really piss them off.”

There wasn’t a lot of time to take in Tom’s words, as you had arrived. There it was. The door to Slughorn’s room.

“Get behind me,” Tom ordered. “Make sure he doesn’t see you.”

You did as he said, pressed your back against the stone wall and watched from a small distance how Tom knocked on the door and Slughorn opened it.

“Oh, Tom,” the Professor said. “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

“Good afternoon Professor. I hope I’m not disturbing you. I have some questions about Avery and Lestrange. I’m trying to sort out some things for Professor Dippet. Would you mind letting me in?”

Slughorn opened the door fully and stepped back. “Of course, boy, of course. Come in.”

Tom had left the door open for you to slip in behind them, which you instantly did. He lured Slughorn to the far end of his office, walking backwards and keeping an eye on you. Slughorn’s potion stock was right next to the entrance, where you knelt down between the shelves, in case he would turn around unexpectedly.

The small drawers weren’t tagged, but you noticed that their contents were sorted alphabetically. As you silently roamed through them, you could hear Tom and Slughorn speak.

“So, Professor,” Tom said. “Do you know if Avery and Lestrange have taken anything else? Apart from the Polyjuice Potion?”

The Professor hummed. “Not that I’m aware of, no. Why?”

Every single one of the drawers was filled to the brim with ingredients, some vials even had completed potions in it, but you still hadn’t seen the things you were looking for. It was a delicate act to go through everything so quickly, while being quiet at the same time and making sure not to miss anything.

“Well, there were some items found. Residues of Moondew and Banshee tears,” Tom explained.

“Banshee tears?” Slughorn asked.

“Yes. We can’t be sure if it was them, but I thought if you missed those things from your supply, the two might have something to do with it.”

“No, everything else is there, I counted it myself,” Slughorn assured. “What baffles me are the Banshee tears.”

Tom was an excellent liar, even though Slughorn would have probably bought anything his favourite student said. The bottom drawer at the penultimate row was stuck. You pulled the handle tightly but it only opened up an inch and gave a screech while it did, making you freeze from fear.

“Did you hear something?” Slughorn asked, his voice echoing your way.

“No, I didn’t,” Tom answered and coughed. “Why are you surprised about the Banshee tears, sir?”

“Well, those tears are rare,” the teacher answered, his head directed towards Tom again. “Very rare and also not very legal, boy. I’ve never seen them anywhere in my whole life. They couldn’t have been from me.”

No Banshee tears from Slughorn then. You pulled out your wand and cast a nonverbal spell to loosen up the stuck drawer. Should have done that right away, you thought to yourself. Eventually, it opened smoothly and your eyes went over all the flasks and their name tags. Mollowsweed, mandrake, maw, mistletoe berry... Moondew. Thank Merlin! There were over ten vials of it in the drawer, so you hastily took out one and put it into your pocket.

You peeked over the counter, locked eyes with Tom, and pointed towards the door to let him know you would leave.

“I see,” Tom went on, his eyes back on Slughorn. “We’ll have to look into that. Anyway, if you do notice some Moondew missing, against all expectations, I’m going to have another talk with Dippet about Avery and Lestrange.”

“I’ll let you know, boy. Thank you.”

“Enjoy your evening, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m pretty proud of this plot twist, not gonna lie. Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing. Thank you for reading!


	11. The Earth's Centre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written partially from Tom’s POV and the reader will be addressed in third person. The POV shift starts in the second half, after the divider, just so you know :)

Starting to brew the antidote for Mors Grano happened to be easier than you had anticipated. The potion’s base was quite similar to any other healing draught, and so was its production. You had decided to begin the laborious process, even though the Banshee tears were missing. According to the recipe, they were the last ingredient to be added, so you still had a lot of time to find them, even if you still didn’t quite know how.

For the first few weeks, there was nothing more to do than letting the Moondew cook and stir it frequently. The cauldron stood in Tom’s room, its content simmering steadily, ready to be examined at any given moment by one of you. 

Professor Beery had denied you the bonus points for the N.E.W.T.s after you had told him that the Moly had unfortunately died. Those points were the least of your problems, however.

The plant had, in fact, bloomed beautifully, ready to be added to the potion.

And that was when the difficulties began. As soon as you let the blossoms fall into the cauldron, the potion started to smell. Very strongly. The mixture reacted in a way that wasn’t described in the book and started to produce yellow steam, as well as a sour, headache-inducing scent, which reached beyond the walls of Tom’s room. The fume filled up every last inch of his dorm and even seemed to creep out into the Slytherin common room. Other students had started mentioning the weird smell and even Dippet, who had paid Tom a number of unfortunate surprise visits, started to get suspicious.

You had sent your parents an owl to inform them that you wouldn’t come home during your semester break. They weren’t exactly happy about it; you had never stayed at Hogwarts during the holidays after all. But you had insisted, telling them there was so much studying to do until they finally let go. That wasn’t even a lie. There was a bunch of work to do. Granted, not all of it was related to school, but you still had a lot on your plate. 

Tom stayed in Hogwarts for the week as well. You weren’t sure but highly doubted that he had notified his own family about it. And to be fair, they wouldn’t really care about that, would they?

Even though the school was practically empty and only a mere fraction of students stayed along with you, those who did stay complained about the biting smell in all of Slytherin’s dormitories. On Sunday evening you heard that the housekeeper had been sent to seek out the source and Tom was informed that Mr Carpe would start his search the next morning.

So there you were, worrying about what to do, stirring the cauldron for the twentieth time within the last minutes, hoping it would steam less, the more you whisked through it. No matter how hard you concentrated, how many options you took into account, there was nowhere you could possibly drag the cauldron to, where its scent would go unnoticed. 

The Potions classroom was off-limits, even though it was much better equipped for the fumes. Slughorn would spend a lot of his time there, to prepare tasks for the upcoming semester. You had even considered taking it home and telling your parents about it. But using the Floo-Network with an item this heavy wasn’t possible, and taking the train with a simmering cauldron seemed ridiculous. Besides that, the antidote still took months to finish, so you would have to take it back to Hogwarts a week later anyway.

Hell, you had even thought about taking that damned kettle out onto the Quidditch pitch or into the forest, so no one would smell it anymore. But you couldn’t leave it out in the open, of course.

The moment you had given up all hope and realised that you couldn’t go on brewing the potion in Tom’s room, or anywhere else, he had told you about another possibility. There was this room on the seventh floor he had discovered in fifth grade. He called it the Come and Go Room and he was positive that no one besides him, not even the teachers, knew of its existence. The room must have been enchanted, according to Tom, and only appeared when you were in dire need.

So the two of you went there the same night, in a cloak and dagger operation, levitating the cauldron behind you. You had covered it with a white sheet so that if someone saw you, they at least wouldn’t know initially what you were doing. The disguise was weak and you knew if Dippet or any other teacher would spot you, you would be screwed.

Luckily none of them was there when you rushed through the halls, aside from Warren O’Connor, a Ravenclaw fifth year, who patrolled on a corridor next to their tower. He was too far away to detect the poorly hidden cauldron and didn’t even seem to look at you after he had recognised Tom. 

When you had finally arrived, chest heaving, thoughts rushing from relief and tension, Tom instructed you how to summon the Come and Go Room. You walked past the stone wall three times and imagined, very carefully, what you needed. An airtight room that allowed you to keep on brewing your potion in peace, that no one would be able to find unless you wanted them to. Suddenly, a door appeared. You looked at Tom and he nodded before you took the handle and opened it.

The small room behind the door was, simply put, perfect. Your very own Potions laboratory. Dark and nifty, it offered enough little cabinets to store all the ingredients for the antidote, as well as a worktop to put the cauldron on. Everything looked as if it had been custom made, just for this purpose. Which it was, you had just created it all yourself. 

* * *

Now that the cauldron was in a safe place Tom felt more at ease and actually thought that the semester break could turn out to be enjoyable. Why did that relax him, though? A question he had asked himself more than once. He didn’t have to care, nor did he have to help his fiancée to save her sister. Then why had he done it? 

He didn’t have a logical answer to that question, even though the illogical one seemed to wave at him from the back of his head. He shrugged it off. But there were so many questions of the same kind running through his mind. Why did he care? He had never cared before. For anyone. That girl wouldn’t bring him where he wanted to be just by marrying him. Sure, her family was respected. Of course, they were purebloods, which was why his Grandfather had taken notice of them. But it had never been Tom’s wish to marry her. So why didn’t he mind the thought anymore? The idea of seeing her walking down the aisle had repelled him immensely when he had found out what Marvolo’s plan had been. And now it didn’t. He had gotten used to the idea. It even bugged him to think about the fact that the marriage wouldn’t happen by chance if the antidote was finished soon enough. Then why did he help her?

There was something inside of him, something that he couldn’t just pinpoint yet. Something that made him do the things he had done, even when it had gone against his own benefit. Something that made him care less and less about himself. It must have turned all of his morals upside down, because somehow, and he couldn’t explain why, the most important thing was seeing her happy. He didn’t even know when his priorities had changed. When he had stopped putting himself first. But it had happened. And that irritated him beyond belief.

She had been so easy to dislike. Back then, when they were sitting in her dining room alone. When she had stared at him, eagerly waiting for him to feel sorry for her. So conceited. Desperate for his attention. But then again, she had been so easy to like. When had he started giving in? At first, he had been nothing more than disgusted. Appalled of the uproar that had gone on inside his head. That nasty feeling in his chest and his weak knees. But once he had surrendered, it had begun to feel good.

All he wanted - no - all he needed now, was to make sure she was safe. Protect her. Help her. That wasn’t just an act of kindness though. He had figured out that apparently, he mirrored her emotions. When she was pleased, he was too. When she was angry, he couldn’t help but feel furious as well. When she was sad, his chest stung with her. It felt like a purpose. Like she was the earth’s centre and everyone else, even himself, merely spun around her. She had his full attention now and he didn’t plan on taking it from her anytime soon. 

If someone were to ask him why, he wouldn’t even know where to begin. How does one describe the meaning of everything? He could start with her glow. That devotion she seemed to radiate anywhere she was. Her relentless spirit and how ready she was to combat anyone with it. How tender she was with people that deserved it. And how ruthless she could be with the ones who didn’t. The way she moved in her sleep, slowly and gently, turning over and unknowingly stealing his blanket at least twice a night. The way her chest moved up and down when she lay next to him. How her eyes seemed to light up when she awoke and looked at him. The hours he had watched her. Held her. Felt her skin brushing against his own, just like in this moment. How could anyone experience that and not have the urge to keep it? To freeze those moments in time and lock them up, safely, for nobody to see. 

Tom wasn’t sure if she was aware of how nervous she made him. He knew how to hide it, but was ever so annoyed at how much he depended on being close to her. And he usually wasn’t the one to become jittery. That was the response he normally got. Freda Morris, for example, couldn’t seem to think straight when he had taken her out once, during their sixth year. Merlin’s beard, that lass was nerve wrenching. 

Quite contrary to her. No one had ever done that to him. She had crawled under his skin and into his head, drugging his mind until almost every single thought he produced revolved around her. But he knew his place. She hadn’t befuddled him just to make him her pawn. He knew because that was what his family had done ever since he could remember. She had never done him wrong. Maybe that was why he had helped her. And why he was willing to do anything for her, even if it meant for him to suffer. He was the antagonist in their story. And if he was poison, she was the remedy. If he was the villain, she was the treasure worth saving. 

Tom’s pitiful monologue was interrupted when she woke up, opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Morning,” she said quietly and smiled.

He looked at her for a moment. If only she knew. 

“Morning,” he replied.

She stretched her arms in the air and yawned, then turned towards him and ran her fingers along his jawline. Bliss.

“How long have you been awake?” she asked, staring at the stubble on his chin that her thumb had just touched.

“Not long,” he lied. “Just a few minutes.”

She grinned and placed a kiss onto the left end of his lips. “I have to get up and stir the potion. Care to join me?”

“Sure,” he nodded.

“Good. Oh, and I think I’m going to go to Diagon Alley in the afternoon. To buy the Foxgloves. I have to add them next week.”

“I’ll come.”

She exhaled and pulled him in, nuzzling into his neck. 

“Do you think we should go to Knockturn Alley as well?” she asked, her voice muffled. “While we’re there. I want to see if any store offers Banshee tears.”

“I don’t think they do,” Tom said and she lifted her head to look at him.

“But where else then?”

“I think I know where we could get some.”

She nodded, urging him to tell her.

“Well, I’m sure Morfin owns a flask. He had to get it if he wanted to brew the antidote, didn’t he?”

“But if they never planned on curing Elsie entirely, I don’t think he would have gotten them.”

“Marvolo never planned on curing her,” Tom said. “Morfin did. He’s a Potions master. One that doesn’t care about legality. He knows every last person that deals with ingredients like that. Even if he never intended to free her, I’m sure he got them just in case he ever needed them for himself.”

Her eyes roamed his face while she thought about it. “So what can we do now? Go to your house, search his chamber and steal the flask?”

Tom shook his head. “That won’t be as easy. They’re always home, Marvolo has his eyes everywhere. Even the house-elves would alarm him.”

She frowned, brows furrowed while she lightly tugged on his hair.

“They’ll be gone,” Tom went on. “In late March. The Order of Merlin gets honoured and they are both invited. We could go then and try to find it.”

There it was again. That spark in her eyes. 

“Okay,” she answered. “Let’s do it then. But for now, let’s stay in bed for five more minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop, hope you didn’t throw up from all that fluff. Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Thank you for reading!


	12. Pillow Talk and Butterbeer

After you had gotten the Foxgloves in Diagon Alley, the only thing you could do for the antidote was to wait. Wait for Nagini to shed and wait for the end of March to arrive, so you could go to the Gaunt manor and look for a flask of Banshee tears. Meanwhile, the cauldron simmered safely in the Come and Go Room. You had to stir it frequently and skim off the foam that built up, so it required a good portion of your time, which was quite worrisome. How would you be able to keep that up when school would start again and you were occupied attending classes? Of course, Tom and you could alternate in doing those tasks, but you didn’t want to bother him with all that constantly. He had to attend to his duties as head boy on top of everything, after all. Well, there had to be a way. It would be manageable somehow. 

Even though Hogwarts was almost empty and there weren’t many people around, you hadn’t felt lonely. Not even a bit. Tom and you had gotten closer over the week. Even closer than before and he still showed no signs of annoyance towards you. Which surprised you. You would have thought that he liked to keep to himself a lot, and wouldn’t want to spend a lot of time with someone else, regardless of who it was. But that suspicion turned out to be untrue. Tom had followed you to tend to the potion every single time you had gone there, even if you hadn’t asked him to. He stuck to you like a magnet, which was strange at first, but once you had figured out that he just seemed to thoroughly enjoy your company, you let him.

When the two of you weren’t in the Come and Go Room, or studied for the upcoming semester, you spent your time in bed a lot. The meaning of ‘enjoying the holidays’ suddenly had a different ring to it. You still had not gotten used to his touch, his scent, his faint whisper in your ear. But if you were honest, you didn’t want to ever get used to it. It was too exciting to get that rush, the way your heart started racing, every time his fingers brushed across your skin. Every time your name fell from his lips and when his eyes lingered on your figure when you lay beneath him. Those smiles, rare and subtle, he graced you with between the sheets. No, you would never get used to that.

And Tom had started to talk more. Granted, still not as much as any other person you knew, but it was certainly a step in the right direction. One rainy day, he even opened up and talked about his family.   
You held hands beneath the blanket, one of your legs was sprawled over him and you had just put your head into a comfortable position between Tom’s shoulder and the cushion, when he just began, out of nowhere.

“Do you remember when you asked me about my parents?” he said. “In your room, at Christmas.”

Your head propped up again so that you could look at him. “I do. Why?”

“Well,” he paused and looked back into your eyes, his voice low and plain. “Do you want to know what happened?”

“Of course. Tell me.”

He laid his head onto the pillow and looked up towards the ceiling while he bit the inside of his cheek. 

“My Mother,” he began. “She fell in love with him, Tom Riddle, when she was seventeen. He was a muggle. Filthy and worthless, even though his family was rich. Merlin knows what she saw in him.”

The thought that him being a muggle didn’t define his Father’s worth came to your mind, but it wasn’t your time to speak now. 

“He didn’t love her back,” Tom went on. “At least not as much as she wanted him to, apparently. Morfin, her brother, had just finished his schooling for Potion’s mastery, so she snuck into his chambers one night and stole one of his love potions.”

This story wasn’t going to end well. Most love potions, the ones that weren’t sold in joke shops, which were diluted and only meant to last for a few minutes, were illegal. You had learned about the most dangerous ones during Slughorn’s class in sixth year, so that you were able to detect them. One of them, the most powerful one, had attracted everyone’s attention back then. The potion alone was infatuating, even if one had not consumed it yet. Its scent had drawn in every person in the classroom, as it smelled different to everyone, based on what the person liked. You still remembered that striking feeling of needing to take the potion yourself. Obsession was the best way to describe it. All rationality had left you once Slughorn had lifted the cauldron’s cover. No one seemed in their right mind anymore. The mere thought of being at someone’s mercy, without even knowing it, was frightening.

“Amortentia?” you asked.

Tom nodded and you could feel one of his legs bouncing up and down. His voice still was indifferent, as if he was telling you just another irrelevant story.

“She drugged him with it and didn’t tell her family. They wouldn’t have tolerated a muggle as her husband of course. But they secretly got married and when she was pregnant, she broke the charm, thinking he would love her anyway.”

“And?” you asked, hoping that the answer would be different from what you anticipated.

“He didn’t love her obviously. And he ran from her. Left her. Can’t even blame him.”

“He left her when she was pregnant?”

Tom nodded and your heart sank for him. Even though his father’s actions were understandable to an extent, you couldn’t imagine what it must feel like being so unwanted by one of your parents that they would have left before you were even born.

“What happened to her then?” you asked.

“She died while giving birth to me. At least that’s what Marvolo told me.”

“You don’t think she’s dead?”

“Oh, yes I do. I don’t think she died from giving birth.”

“Do you think he… That Marvolo… Killed her?”

Tom shrugged, still looking up at the ceiling. “Possibly. I could see why he would have done it.”

Everyone who knew Marvolo could probably see him do that. That man was evil, to say the least, and seemed to enjoy it when others suffered. But killing his own daughter was something you hadn’t thought anyone, not even the worst person on earth, was able to do without hesitation. 

Silence had fallen over the room. You could hear Tom breathing, still collected and slow, contrary to yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered for lack of a better word and held his hand tighter.

“It’s alright,” he answered, his voice sounding like he was the one consoling you when it should have been the other way around. “I have no memory of them. It’s not like I miss her.”

Could you miss someone you never really met? Probably not, you thought. But it was definitely possible to know you missed out. 

“And your father?” you asked. “Do you know where he is now?”

Tom let out a sharp breath through his nose as if he was suppressing a laugh. “I don’t think he’s alive either. They never told me, but I assume Marvolo took care of him as well.”

You sighed at his response, turned to lie on your side and rested your head on Tom’s shoulder, your hand leaving his, to hold on to his upper arm. 

There had been so much harm, so much betrayal in his life, even before he could have done something to prevent it. No wonder he behaved the way he did. There had never been hope. He never stood a chance.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you mumbled. “Do you wish it could have been different? If you had gotten to know them.”

“You and your wishful thinking,” he said and you could hear the smile in his tone. “I never thought about it. It wouldn’t change reality. It would just make me mad.”

You nodded as a silent way of approval, your fingertips tracing patterns on the curve of his shoulder.

“I do wonder, however,” Tom said and lifted your chin with his hand, so he could look into your eyes. “What my father felt when she put him under her spell with Amortentia.”

His gaze darted back and forth between your eyes and your lips, his fingers still holding up your chin when you blinked.

“The closest thing to love, I assume,” you answered, a breath stuck in your throat. “The replica of it at least, as hollow as it may be.”

Tom still looked at you with a glare as sharp as a butcher knife. He sucked in a breath, pondering, and parted his lips, about to say something. Before he could though, he leaned closer, pinned you down to the mattress and kissed you, his hand wandering from your chin to your neck.

* * *

An owl from Camille arrived on one of the last days of the break. Her letter made you smile as you walked across Tom’s room and read it.

“Camille wants to meet up on Sunday, when she’ll be back,” you told Tom, still skimming across her lines. “They are official now, Ben and her.”

“Alright then,” Tom said absentmindedly, his nose in one of the books from the library.

“She asked for you to come too.”

His head rose in confusion. “Me? Why?”

“I think she wants us to go on a double date,” you chuckled. “To the Three Broomsticks. Sunday at five.”

No matter how sure you were of how much Tom enjoyed your presence, he absolutely wasn’t entertaining the idea of spending time with Ben Hilt. And about that, he was very clear. He had asked you a couple of times if you were sure that Camille meant for him to come and had tried many ways of escaping that date, but alas, you dragged him there.

“Four Butterbeers,” Ben ordered after you had sat down at a table together.

Ben sat opposite to Tom, who was more than obviously annoyed by the fact he even had to be there. You patted his thigh, ordering him to behave, to which Tom eyed you seriously. Camille and you both bit back the smirks on your faces, while Ben tried his best to be friendly.

“So,” he said, looking at Tom and you. “How were the holidays?”

“Mind your own business,” Tom murmured, which luckily no one but you had heard.

“Good,” you spoke over him and pushed your elbow against Tom’s side. “Quiet. Not many people around.”

“Oh, you stayed in school, didn’t you?” Ben asked. “You both?”

Tom didn’t answer and looked back at Ben without a hint of emotion on his face. You nodded and smiled.

“How about you?“ you asked. „What have you done? Have you met up?” 

“Oh, yes we did,” Camille said. “Ben introduced himself to my parents and then took me to the cinema.”

“Cinema?” Tom and you asked simultaneously. 

You had heard of cinemas before of course. But you had never been. Movies were a muggle invention, and even though it sounded tempting, you had never had a chance to go.

“Yes,” Camille confirmed. “We watched ‘Dead of Night’. That’s what it’s called, right?”

Ben nodded as he swung his arm around Camille’s shoulder. “Horror movies. My favourite.”

“Why would you do that?” Tom asked and took his cup from the server, who had come up with your order. “Go to the cinema. That’s such a muggle thing to do.”

“Oh, you’ve never been, huh?” Ben asked. “None of you have, have you?”

“You should have seen his face when I told him,” Camille laughed. She had, similar to you, grown up in a pureblood family as well.

“And you should’ve seen mine when I went to her house,” Ben added. “I’m still not used to wizard’s homes, you know. They’re so different. I like them.”

Tom stiffened next to you. 

“You’re muggleborn?” he asked, his mouth agape.

“Indeed mate. Didn’t you know?”

“You’re a mu-… muggleborn,” Tom stammered and looked over to Camille. “But you, you’re a pureblood, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Camille said, a baffled smile on her face.

Tom still had a hard time believing what he had just heard. “And you… You two. Even though…”

“Tom,” you whispered, trying to escape both Camille and Ben’s amused looks, and patted him on the thigh again.

“Excuse me,” he cleared his throat and motioned with his hand. “I just. I didn’t know.”

“Well now you do,” Ben shrugged before taking a big sip of his butterbeer. “Best of both worlds, am I right?”

“Right,” you said when Tom didn’t answer.

Changing the subject seemed necessary, but you couldn’t think of anything worth talking about. The only thing you had been doing was tending to the potion, and that was something you would rather keep a secret. 

“The worst thing is that none of you folks have phones at home,” Ben went on.

“Phones?” Tom asked.

“Telephones. You can call other people and talk to them.”

“I wish I had one,” said Camille. “I told my father about it and he thinks it’s a great idea. Maybe we’ll get one of those ‘phones’.”

That was interesting. To talk to someone directly, even if they weren’t there? No apparating, no Floo Network. Muggles might have been weak, but they sure knew how to handle their handicaps.

“Why would you need to do that?” Tom asked. “Talk to someone on the phone.”

“Well, it spares a lot of time. No need for owls or letters. You just pick it up from the hook and speak.”

Tom seemed to think about it for a moment. Then he shook his head. “But owls do the job just fine.”

“Not as quickly,” Ben grinned.

“Well, then I’ll send an urgent owl if I need my message to arrive sooner.”

Ben stifled a laugh and took another drink. “I mean, of course, mate.”

“I think it’s interesting,” you said. “And you only hear the voice of the other person? You can’t see them, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Fascinating,” you mumbled. “What other things do you have that we don’t?”

Ben looked into his cup for a moment and hummed. “Well, muggles invented the train, which we all use to go to school.”

“Oh,” Camille gasped. “Wait until he tells Tom about cars.”

Tom clicked his tongue. “Of course I know about cars.”

“Have you driven one?” Ben asked.

“No. Obviously not.”

“You should one day,” Ben gushed. “My father got a 1943 Bentley recently. Technically I’m not allowed to drive it, because I don’t have a license. But I’ve seen Father drive a lot. So I borrowed the car one night and it was life-changing.”

Tom took a drink and raised one brow. “I’d rather just apparate.”

“Yes, that’s great too. But it doesn’t have the same feeling. It’s really liberating. And much more comfortable than brooms. I could take you all on a ride someday in summer. The car fits four people.” 

“Why?” Tom asked before you could agree.

Ben raised his eyebrows again, a smile still plastered on his face. “For fun?”

“For fun,” Tom repeated and looked at you as if to ask you what Ben was trying to tell him.

“You should do more things just for fun, mate,” Ben chuckled. “Might help against that constant frown.”

Camille and you laughed quietly, both turning your faces away from the boys and you bit your tongue. Tom straightened his posture, his eyes darting across the table, apparently thinking hard.

“We’ll see about that,” he said and raised his glass. “Mate.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing!


	13. Pranks and Proper Paybacks

The quill in your hand scratched lightly over the parchment as you were taking notes for Astronomy in the library. It was quiet, as usual, except for the occasional questions and thereof resulting explanations between Ben and Camille. She helped him study for his upcoming Herbology exam, for which he clearly hadn’t revised enough yet. Silly boy.

Tom was there too and sat next to you, completing the quartet round the table. He tried his best not to hiss at them every time Ben asked something. You noticed from the corner of your eye, how he gulped down every thought that built up in his head when another word poured from Ben’s mouth. It was amusing, to say the least, seeing Tom battling with himself to keep his cool. He still didn’t like Ben very much and would much rather study with you alone. But the fact that he had voluntarily sat down with the three of you, tried to behave and didn’t yell at Ben whenever he opened his mouth, told you that he probably didn’t hate him as much as he pretended to.

“So, about the Fluxweed again,” Ben whispered, browsing through his book. “How many days does it have to grow?”

Camille was about to answer when Tom pressed his palm against his forehead and exhaled dramatically. “Sixteen, Ben. It’s sixteen. She’s told you that three times at least.”

Ben took a quick look at Tom, while still fumbling through the book. “I know, mate. I just can’t memorise it. Why do I even need to know that?”

Tom flung a piece of parchment toward him, pointing at the empty sheet. “Write it down, then. There are some things you must know. Get over it.”

“Alright, alright,” Ben grinned and didn’t seem to care about Tom’s tone at all. “I’ll write it down, see? Fluxweed takes thirteen days to grow. Happy now?”

“Sixteen,” Camille, Tom and you sighed in unison.

“Oh.” He crossed out the number and sloppily wrote the correct one above it. “Sixteen then.”

Camille and you chuckled to yourselves while Tom only shook his head slightly, his eyes back inside his own book. Ben certainly was careless, or to be more precise, a lot more careless than Camille, Tom and you when it came to grades. The way he talked about homework and even exams was astonishing. He hadn’t even studied for his O.W.L. in Care for Magical Creatures in his fifth year, and he still got an ‘Exceeds Expectations’. Or so he had told you. He had always found a way to talk his way out of things, which was reasonable. Teachers really seemed to like him. Or rather do anything to stop him from talking once in a while. 

“Oh, wait,” Ben said again.

“Just read your book,” Tom grunted.

“No, hang on.”

Ben stood up and stretched his arm out quickly, reaching and grasping for something to your left. You all turned your heads and saw him catching something that had been flying right at you.

“I might be bad at Herbology. But you’re lucky I’m a bloody good Seeker,” he said and twisted the thin thing between his fingers.

“What is it?” Camille asked. “Let me see.”

Ben put the thing down onto the desk, still pressing his index finger on top of it. “It’s a quill. But it appears to be jinxed. It was flying on its own and headed right for your face,” he said and looked at you. “Still wants to, I can feel it moving.”

The grey quill twitched eagerly beneath Ben’s hand, trying to escape and pointed its sharp tip right at you, ready to pierce into your skin. 

“Not again,” you mumbled.

“Again?” 

Things, odd things, had been happening during the week. Someone had definitely played some pranks and antics on you. You hadn’t found out who it was yet, but it certainly had become pesky. On Monday, someone had left you a note that said Professor Merrythought wanted a word with you. Once you had arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom however, you were met with a confused teacher and had a hard time explaining yourself. Tuesday, someone had poured Rash Powder over your dinner. You had almost taken a bite but thankfully had noticed the unfamiliar smell in time. Wednesday was more subtle. There had been puddles and slippery spots everywhere you stepped. Avoiding them had been a tedious task. And now, on Thursday, this. The quill didn’t look like it could badly injure you, but its vivid nature was a sign for a hex, rather than a jinx.   
No matter who it was, all those things did tear on your nerves. Not only because the pranks got to you, but because there was a possibility someone had been following you without you noticing. Every time you had gone to the Come and Go Room you had turned around and checked if someone was behind you, just in case. That was the exhausting part.

“Just some pranks,” you explained. “I don’t know who or why, but it’s getting fairly ridiculous.”

“Could someone,” Ben puffed. “Stop this thing? It’s trying to escape.”

Tom pointed his wand directly at the quill and rolled his wrist. It lit up for a fraction of a second and crumbled to dust right after.

“Ouch,” Ben hissed and fanned his hand through the air hastily before putting his index inside his mouth. “Thanks, mate.”

Tom smirked complacently, partly for the spell he had just cast and partly for burning Ben’s fingertip. “Anytime, mate.”

Camille dragged her finger through the ashes, took a good look at them and rubbed it off between her index and her thumb. “Who would do that?”

“I don’t know,” you answered.

“Avery and Lestrange again, perhaps?” she asked.

“Unlikely,” Tom said. “I checked on them some days ago. They’re still with Carpe most of the time, scrubbing the floors and polishing trophies. And besides, they wouldn’t dare.”

“Who else could it be then?” Camille asked as she blew the remaining ashes off the desk with a quick cleaning spell.

The four of you exchanged looks around the table. “To be honest,” Tom began. “I was suspecting you for a while, Ben.”

“Me?” Ben asked wide-eyed. “Why would I do that? I just stopped that quill.”

“‘I’m aware, I’ve seen that now.”

Camille hummed, deep in thought. “Wait,” she said. “What about Freda? Freda Morris.”

“The head girl?” Ben asked.

“Yes,” she said. “She was so jealous at Slughorn’s party, wasn’t she?”

Tom looked at you, biting on the inside of his lower lip, then nodded. “That doesn’t sound too far fetched.”

“I wouldn’t have thought she’d be so creative,” you said while picking up your books. “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her then.”

Once you had gathered all your things, you got up and waited for Tom to do the same.

“Where are you going?” Camille asked. “It’s not even seven yet.”

“I have to,” you stopped yourself. You had to tend to the potion in the Come and Go Room again. Needless to say, you couldn’t tell them that. “I have to go and look after Nagini. The snake. She’s shedding at the moment. Talk to you soon.”

“Let us know if something else happens,” Camille said and waved you goodbye. 

Tom followed you silently. Of course, they didn’t ask him why he had to come and check on Nagini as well. The perks of being intimidating. Apart from this, Camille and Ben surely didn’t mind studying without him nagging all the time.

On your way out, right when you left the library and headed toward the grand staircase, Tom and you were halted by another student. Platinum blonde and blue-eyed, Abraxas Malfoy, who was one of Tom’s ever so devious sycophants, locked eyes with him. 

“Tom,” he greeted and stopped right in his tracks.

“Abraxas,” Tom replied.

Oh, what did he want now? There wasn’t a lot of time until the potion had to be stirred, so you hoped Malfoy wouldn’t keep you from going any longer.

“So,” Abraxas began. “I’ve seen, you like to keep new company these days.”

Tom frowned and looked over his shoulder. Clearly, Abraxas didn’t mean you. “What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything,” he said and chortled a sour laugh. “I’m just observing. You’re dealing with mudbloods now?”

He was talking about Ben. Malfoy and Tom’s other ‘friends’ had probably seen you in the library together. Or in the Three Broomsticks, some weeks ago. Abraxas must have felt really brave to talk to the head boy in this way. His chest was swollen with pride and the glint in his gaze spoke more than he could have ever said. He was out to get something from this conversation.

Tom only exhaled sharply and stared back at Malfoy, completely unconcerned about his reproach. “And how come that’s any of your business, exactly?”

“Oh, it isn’t of course,” Abraxas answered. “I was just surprised. Shocked even.”

“I do apologize,” Tom sneered, clicking his tongue in fake sympathy. “That the gathering of other people, who don’t concern you in the slightest, has ruined your precious day.”

Abraxas stared back at him, obviously trying hard to keep calm. His smile still sat neatly on his face; it were his eyes that betrayed him. “No need to worry about me. I merely started thinking, daydreaming, that your Grandfather might not appreciate that.”

Now he had gone too far. Tom took a step closer, his nostrils flared for a moment and a vein on his neck stood out. “Abraxas,” he whispered so spitefully, it almost sounded like he was talking in Parseltongue, words spilling out of him like pure venom. “I’d advise you to worry about your own life. Because if you don’t, wouldn’t it be tragic if your Mother found out what happened last year at your house? When the maid left and never came back? What was the reason again? If only I remembered. Oh, I do.”

Malfoy’s expression changed momentarily, his head sunk and his eyes darted across the floor, trying hard to think of what to answer.

“Do we understand each other?” Tom asked.

Abraxas nodded, lips thin and full of fury. He instinctively retracted and took a step back, keeping his head low and looked up at Tom through knitted brows.

“Good,” Tom said and left Malfoy standing there. 

Continuing to walk to the grand staircase with you, he appeared like nothing but a casual chat between two friends had just happened. 

“Well,” you said after Abraxas was out of earshot. “That was interesting.”

“They’re all so stupid, sometimes I wonder how they’ve lived this long,” Tom replied. “I have dirt on every single one of them. And they try to blackmail me. Ridiculous.”

“Idiots indeed,” you shook your head. “Do I want to know what happened to the maid?”

“I guess not. It’s a long, repulsive story.”

No doubt it was. Abraxas was known for his dreadful ways and how he had tormented younger students ever since. He wasn’t like Avery or Lestrange, a dumb follower, who had Hippogriff crap for brains. No, he was mindful, awfully aware of his surroundings and constantly seemed to brood about his next step. He reminded you of Marvolo, they both had the same aura, cold and demeaning, always looking for ways to take advantage of other people’s misery.  
It was no surprise that he had tried to intimidate Tom, maybe even pass him in their hierarchy by threatening to tell everyone about his association with a muggle-born. But he hadn’t thought it through. Tom Riddle wasn’t one to mess with and he had just made that crystal clear. Ben might have not been his friend, but still, he hadn’t let Abraxas speak ill of him.

“I wouldn’t have thought you liked Ben,” you said once you turned another corner.

Tom opened his mouth and looked at you in disbelief for a moment, as if you had just insulted him, before he started talking. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it just seemed like it. You came to his defence so quickly. That’s why I assumed.”

“This wasn’t about Hilt. It was about me, Marvolo and that bootlicker Malfoy.”

“Whatever you say,” you replied teasingly while Tom rolled his eyes.

* * *

Friday evolved to be the worst day of the week. Not only had you almost gotten detention for falling victim to a Knockback jinx during Defence Against the Dark Arts if Camille hadn’t come to your rescue. Professor Merrythought still hadn’t forgotten about your visit on Monday and thought you were trying to disturb her lesson again.   
But in addition, your curriculum almost hindered you from tending to your potion completely. It had become nearly impossible to handle everything at once. Your classes, homework, studying for the N.E.W.T.s, taking care of the antidote and on top of all that, those stupid pranks. It had been draining and your body ached for a bit of rest. 

On your way to Tom’s dorm, when the sun had already set and you were finally done with everything for the day, you heard the clink of a door handle turning behind you. It almost had gone overheard, the only thing you wanted to do was sit down for a moment and unwind, even if only for an hour.   
You had already reached the door to Tom’s room and could have just entered to forget about the world for a while. But there was this unsettling feeling inside of you and Camille’s words from the library ran through your head again. You turned around. And thank Merlin you did.

Freda Morris stood in her own door frame, smirking maliciously, with her wand pointed right at you. She must have been taken by surprise, it didn’t seem like she had expected you to look at her. Her wand sank in an instant before she hid it behind her back.

“You,” you muttered, taking some steps her way. “It was you all week, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said smiling, trying to take the high ground, but you wouldn’t let her.

“Just admit it at least. Coward. You know exactly what I’m talking about and you were just trying to do it again, weren’t you?”

Freda shook her head and put a strand of hair behind her ear with her skinny fingers. “I’m head girl, dear. I would never do anything to harm another student if that is what you’re implying. I don’t know what could have given you the idea.”

“Oh shut up,” you spat. “Head girl, yes. An awful excuse for one at best.”

The door behind you opened and Tom appeared from inside. He looked out into the hallway frowning. “What’s all that noise about?”

“Your fiancée’s throwing a fit.”

“Camille was right,” you said, still not taking your eyes off Freda. “It was her. The note, the quill and everything else. I just caught her right in the act.”

Freda heaved one single, shrill laugh at your words and straightened her posture. “I just told you, I would never do such things.”

“What were you doing then? Pointing your wand at me, when I have my back turned on you.”

She pondered, taken aback, while she looked at Tom beside you until her grin appeared back on her face. “You’re imagining things. I was just leaving my room to go and talk to Professor Dippet. That’s when you started to yell at me for no reason.”

“Liar!”

She didn’t lower herself to even look at you anymore. Instead, she looked at Tom. “Is this really what you look for in a woman? Hysterical and hostile? I would have thought you had better taste.”

The need to go up to her and slap her across the face seemed almost unbearable. Your hands were balled into fists and it took all your might not to take out your own wand and pay her back everything she had done to you, times ten. Tom on the other hand stayed calm and smiled weakly while looking back at her.

“Don’t worry about my taste, Freda,” he said. “I'd rather worry about your memory. Maybe you haven’t been informed, which would be very unfortunate seeing that you are head girl, but Professor Dippet isn’t in Hogwarts today. He’s been called in by the Wizengamot. How could you have been on your way to him then?”

Freda’s smile faltered, her eyes darting back and forth between Tom and you. “I must have not gotten his owl then.”

“Certainly,” Tom said. “I want a word. Now.”

“No,” you intervened and he stopped his movements to look at you. “I can do this myself.”

Tom stepped back with a small smirk on his face. Freda was in for a treat. You walked up to her until there was only a hand’s breadth of space between your faces.

“Listen now,” you said, your heart pumping strongly inside your chest. “I don’t know what you were thinking. If you were thinking. But I swear, if you ever play another of your pranks on me again, I-”

“You what?” she asked and shoved you by the shoulder. “Do you think I’m scared of you?”

The moment she had touched you, you felt something moving by your feet. Nagini had slithered out through Tom’s open door and hissed louder than you had ever heard before. Freda gasped and took several steps backwards, startled by the snake. Nagini placed herself between the two of you and reared up, looking as huge and aggressive as ever. Her hisses were meant for one person only and when you looked back at Tom, you recognised that he wasn’t talking to the snake. She had come to your defence on her own.

“Take that thing away,” Freda yelled. “Make it stop.”

“Or what?” you asked. “You might have not been scared of me yet, but I promise you, give me one more reason and you will be.”

She didn’t dare answer, still looking down at Nagini in utmost panic and tried to foresee every move the snake was about to make. You savoured on the sight for a moment, fervently enjoying how Freda fumbled for the doorknob behind herself.

“Come Nagini,” you then said as you turned around. “Leave her alone. For now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Thank you for reading!


	14. Gaunt Manor

The weeks after Nagini had shed and you had added her skin into the antidote got more and more exhausting. The potion needed tending up to twelve times a day now and unfortunately, you didn’t own a time turner. Both Tom and you had not gotten a full night’s sleep in a while and it started to show. Every day that went by seemed to last for an eternity while the circles under your eyes carved deeper and deeper by the minute. 

The curriculum had gotten more challenging, as the teachers were preparing their students for the N.E.W.T.s. Homework was harder and more time consuming than in any other year before and you had to study for hours afterwards as well. These things alone were enough to wear out most students from year seven. Because of that, thankfully no one got suspicious of how drained you looked. Except for Camille. She had started to ask a lot of uncomfortable questions whenever you had left to take care of the potion. She knew you too well. Sneaking out every two hours to go to the Come and Go Room on top of your studies and school work had drained you to the point where you must have looked like a walking corpse.

One day, when Professor Leveret had dismissed you after an exceptionally long Astronomy lesson in the late evening, you had reached your breaking point and were on the brink of tears, pondering about failing every single subject at the end of the term. There was little to no energy left inside of you. So little, you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry, but merely stared into space with reddened eyes and parted lips. Tom brought you to his room that night and went to the Come and Go Room alone. And when you were in bed, you were too tired to fall asleep. How ironic. You never knew that was even possible. But once you weren’t distracted anymore, your mind started to wander. It was impossible to keep up with everything at once. You would either fail your N.E.W.T.s or spoil the potion. The latter would be worse of course and for no price would you let your sister down, so you mentally prepared yourself to either leave Hogwarts without graduating or repeat your entire seventh year. Oh, there were the tears. Finally. They ran and flowed along with hollow sobs and wouldn’t stop now that they were coming. 

What if the Gaunts were so appalled by your failure that they would call the wedding off before you could cure Elsie? They could easily paint you as a disgrace for not completing school and make your sister pay for it. No matter how it would turn out, they would take it out on her. The plan had worked so well until now and yet you were still desperately trapped inside Marvolo’s web. 

Half an hour must have passed when Tom came back. The cushion beneath you was damp from the tears that had rolled down your cheeks and you held your breath to prevent another whimper from escaping your mouth. You hastily wiped your face and turned your back on him, trying to breathe slowly and act as if you were asleep. But he noticed, of course. And even his well-chosen words of comfort couldn’t ease your mind. You couldn’t let yourself fall into his touch and allow yourself to drift off to sleep because you knew that in two hours, the circle would start once again.

* * *

The next day, when you sat on Tom’s sofa together to study for Transfiguration, and you had just started reading the same paragraph for the third time since you just couldn’t concentrate, it just rolled off your tongue.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Tom looked up from his book. “What, the twentieth chapter? I just-”

“No, not this,” you sighed and threw your book on the coffee table. “I mean everything. This whole situation. It’s too much.”

“Well,” he said and laid his book aside too. “It certainly is a challenging time. The N.E.W.T.s, the schoolwork and the antidote.”

Challenging was an understatement.

“I just need a full night’s sleep, or two,” you mumbled. “And you do too. We need help, it’s inevitable.”

“Help?” he asked, brows raised. “What do you have in mind? Ask Hilt to look after the potion?”

His expression changed once he had seen how you shifted. “No. Don’t tell me that’s what you were thinking.”

“I thought about asking Camille for help. She wouldn’t tell anyone and she’s always been great at Potions,” you explained. “And then I thought, Ben would ask her where she’s going all the time. He wouldn’t leave her alone anyway. So I considered telling them both.”

Tom looked like he had been petrified for a second, not moving a muscle. “But you’d have to tell him about the pact.”

“I know.”

“That’s what he was after since the beginning.”

“Yes. But I think we can trust him.”

“You think?” he asked. “Why, because he’s stopped Freda’s quill? That’s enough to gain your trust?”

“It’s not like we have a lot of options, Tom,” you replied, slowly but surely getting annoyed by his constant suspicions. “Camille wouldn’t be with him if he was a snitch.”

“We will just plan better. It won’t be easy, but we-”

“No. This is too much work for two people. Just look at us. We’re both barely keeping up. It won’t be long until we’re completely worn out. We need help.”

Tom’s brows were furrowed, still not convinced even if he understood. You stretched out your hand towards him and waited for him to hold it.

“If we don’t ask for help we’re going to mess up. I’ll either fail my N.E.W.T.s or the antidote won’t be finished. No matter what happens, Elsie will pay for it. Please.”

* * *

Camille and Ben looked at Tom and you like you had both lost your minds when you took them to the seventh floor. They had asked so many questions on the way there, but you were far too tired to answer them all. Besides, they would just be able to see for themselves in a bit.

When you had arrived, you said to them once more: “I’m going to show you something now. And it is unbelievably important that you understand this needs to stay between us. No one else must know.”

Camille and Ben nodded, both with serious and still confused looks on their faces.

“And might I add,” Tom said as he looked directly at Ben. “That my memory charm is very powerful. If you can’t keep your mouth shut I’ll obliviate you and I might even make you forget that you have magic running through your veins.”

Ben nodded again. “Alright mate, I got it.”

The door to the Come and Go Room appeared and the two wore the same expression that you must have had when you had first seen it. 

“Come in,” you said as you opened the door.

The room was a bit tight with the four of you in there. You stirred the liquid inside the cauldron like you did each time while Ben and Camille looked around curiously. 

“A potions room?” Camille asked once the door had been closed. “Now, can you please tell us what’s going on?”

You looked at Tom, who stared back at you, lips pressed together and still unsure if what you were about to do was a good idea. But still, he nodded. He had every right to be suspicious, you had to admit now that you had brought them there. But Camille was to be trusted and frankly, you were far too tired to think of any consequences.

So you began to tell them everything from where it all had started, a day before the school year, at your house. Camille knew half of the story already, but once you told them about the Gaunts and that they were the ones who had cursed Elsie, she stood there wide-eyed, just like Ben.

“And this is why I wanted to ask you both for your help with the potion,” you said once you had told them every detail. “If you don’t mind of course. If you’re willing to help, everyone would just have to come here three times a day. That would make our lives a lot easier.”

They didn’t even need to look at each other and nodded right away.

“Of course,” Camille said. “It all makes sense now. Oh, you must be exhausted. Twelve times a day?”

“I can come more often if you want,” Ben chimed in. “I don’t have as much to do as you, my N.E.W.T.s are still a year away and I wouldn’t have bothered studying much this year anyway.”

“What a surprise,” Tom muttered, even though there was a hint of a smirk on his face.

“One more question,” Ben said. “What about the last ingredient? Banshee tears you said, right? Where are you going to get those?”

“Well. That’ll be the final obstacle.”

“My uncle owns a flask,” Tom explained. “He and my Grandfather will be out next week and we’ll go and try to get them. Our house-elves will be on high alert however, so it’s going to be risky.”

“So,” Ben said. “When are we going?” 

“We?” Camille and you asked simultaneously.

“You can’t sneak your way in anyway with the elves around, right?” he said. “Four people are a better distraction than two. I’m in.”

“You weren’t even invited in,” Tom said.

“I don’t care,” Ben shrugged. “I’m still in if you need me.”

Tom sighed as he walked in circles around the cauldron, his hand covering his mouth while he considered Ben’s offer. “As much as I hate to admit it,” he then said. “I think you might be right. A distraction could be of benefit.”

“See?” Ben chuckled. “The muggleborn isn’t that dumb after all.”

“Oh brush off the arrogance, Hilt. We don’t have the flask yet.”

“Boys, please. Let’s discuss that another time and let me show you how to tend to the potion.”

* * *

You spent the following week planning for Saturday, when the Gaunts would leave their manor to attend the honouring of the Order of Merlin. You had also gotten some most needed hours of sleep. Not only that but just knowing that Camille and Ben were taking some weight off your shoulders made it much easier to concentrate on school and homework as well. 

On Saturday evening, when you met at the fireplace connected to the Floo-Network, you went over your plan again.

“And don’t forget,” Tom said. “There are two house-elves. They’re loud, but not very bright. Much like Gryffindors.”

Camille stifled a laugh and looked over to Ben.

“Mate,” Ben replied. “Can you stop bullying me? I’m helping you out here.”

“Sorry,” Tom answered and bit the inside of his cheek. “I was just joking.”

“Oh yes. Riddle’s first joke in eighteen years and of course I take the fall.”

“Guys,” you scolded. “Get it together. Do you remember everything?”

“Yes,” Camille replied. “We are Theresa Carrow and Connor Prewett, your new and very pureblooded friends. We’ll be distracting the house-elves while Tom and you look for the flask. Once you got it, Tom will obliviate them and we'll come right back here.”

“Alright then,” you said as you watched Tom disappearing inside the fireplace. “See you there.”

The green flames consumed you whole once you let the Floo Powder fall and transported you swiftly to Gaunt manor, where you found yourself in a dark hallway, the reception hall, perhaps. 

Tom was there already and offered his hand for you to step out of the fireplace. Camille came next, followed right by Ben. Before you could say anything, you heard two raspy, high-pitched voices coming your way.

“Who is it?” one voice asked. “Master? Is it you?”

“Show yourselves,” the other voice croaked and the elf snapped her fingers, making all the candles around the room light up. It still was dim, but you could see them a bit better now. Both of them were wrinkly and old, their faces scrunched up in suspicion. They didn’t look like the elves at your home at all but were hunching and worn out, completely different to Tummy. The male elf, Scrook, missed a large piece of his left ear and the female one, Hokey, walked with a severe limp.

“Master Riddle,” Scrook said once he had detected him and bowed tediously. “What do we owe the honour? Master Gaunt didn’t tell us you would visit today.”

“He didn’t?” Tom asked. “He must have forgotten. I told him that I’d come by today. Isn’t he here?”

“No Master,” Hokey answered. “They just left thirty minutes ago. Should we inform them for you?”

“Not necessary. I just wanted to treat my friends to dinner, you see. May I introduce you to Miss Carrow, Mister Prewett, and my fiancée.”

“Oh, networking, yes,” Scrook said and bowed once again. “Welcome to Gaunt manor.”

“Shall we prepare some food for you, Master?” Hokey asked.

“Certainly. Bring my guests to the sitting room, will you? I’ll join in a bit.”

“Of course, Master. Of course.”

The two elves escorted Camille and Ben to the back, bickering and wrangling like an old couple.

“Quick now,” Tom whispered to you and walked the opposite way, towards the basement. The whole mansion was cold and dark, mahogany bleakly spread across the floors and even on some walls. The marble staircase in the entrance hall might have looked impressive, but only added to the frigid aesthetic of the house.

“Allow me to ask, Mister Prewett,” Scrook said while Ben and Camille took a seat. “What magical family do you belong to? I’ve never heard your last name before.”

“I, uh. I’m related to the Black family,” Ben said.

“The noble and most ancient house of Black,” Hokey crowed. “What an honour.”

The corridor to Morfin’s chamber was long, you had walked there for at least a minute, and it got even colder with every step you took. When you finally reached the door at the far end, Tom halted and you took a deep breath. Tom turned the doorknob, but the entry remained closed. 

“Locked,” he said. “Alohomora.”

The door stayed shut. Tom frowned. That would have been too easy.

“A different spell?” you asked. “Or is there a key somewhere?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s a charm.”

Merlin’s beard. What could it be? You thought about what Morfin could have done to lock the door. Something that only he or Marvolo would be able to use.

“What about Parseltongue?” you asked. “Does Morfin know it too?”

“Yes,” Tom answered and proceeded to speak unfamiliar words in the language. The doorknob clicked and sprung open by itself. “There we go.”

Meanwhile, in the sitting room, one of the elves got more and more interested in Ben and Camille’s backstory. “Can Scrook offer you a drink Miss? Sir?” he asked, while Hokey was busy in the kitchen. “Please, if you don’t mind, Mister Prewett. Would you tell me how exactly you’re related to Arcturus Black? Master Morfin is on good terms with him and I wonder why I’ve never heard of you before.”

When you entered Morfin’s chamber you were surprised by its size. It was almost as large as the entire Potions classroom in Hogwarts. Dead bats and shrunken heads were hanging down from the low ceiling here and there, along with strange feathers and strings that must have been some creature’s strands of hair. Despite its size, the room was crammed with bottles, finished potions and ingredients of all sorts. It wasn’t messy, not at all, but very chaotic for anyone unfamiliar. 

“Morfin arranges everything by type,” Tom said. “Liquids from living creatures must be in this corner then.”

You both started opening the drawers and looked for anything that could possibly be Banshee tears.

Ben and Camille still got cross-examined by Scrook. “Interesting, interesting. Mister Black is your great-uncle, you say. Have you met him lately?“

In the chamber, you had searched for over ten minutes already, and gone through hundreds of little flasks. The number of different liquids in this room must have been in the thousands. Slughorn’s stock was absurdly small compared to this. 

“Can’t we just use a summoning charm?” you sighed, going through your fifteenth drawer of vials filled with animal blood.

“No,” Tom said while closing a drawer. “The elves would notice it immediately.”

You shoved yet another drawer shut. “Bloody hell. What if it’s hidden?”

“That’s possible,” he mumbled, still scanning over all the flasks inside the cupboard.

“Wait,” you said. “What if we’re looking in the wrong place?”

“All liquids are here, as I said.”

“Yes, but I just remembered. Slughorn said this years ago. Banshee tears when stored, turn into tiny, pearly white crystals.”

Tom lifted his head to look at you.

“Where are the solids stored?” 

He pointed at the opposite corner of the room. “Over there.”

At the same time, Hokey brought appetizers into the sitting room. “Enjoy,” she grumbled, her tone not fitting her kind words at all.

“Thank you,” Ben said after he and Camille had taken some canapés from the tray.

Both elves froze in shock, deeply offended. “Sir, you have not just thanked Hokey, have you?” Scrook asked.

“Of course not,” Camille stated, holding her head high. “What are you thinking? He thanked me for handing him a canapé.”

“I see,” Scrook said, eyes narrowed. “I’ll go and look for Master Riddle now. He’s taking awfully long, whatever he’s doing.”

“No!” Camille and Ben shouted which lead the elf to turn back around.

“No,” Camille repeated, her voice a lot calmer. “I’d like to know more about this house. Can you tell us how long you have worked for the Gaunts?”

In the chamber, you went through the flasks and glass containers on the other side of the room, where the solid ingredients were stored, while Tom still roamed the liquids. And finally, between fairy wings and unicorn liver, lay a tiny flask of Banshee tears.

“Got it,” you called. “There it is.” 

Tom walked right over and checked out the flask too. “Good girl, very smart thinking.”

You lightly pushed him with your elbow for what he had just called you and smiled. “Let’s go.”

Scrook had gotten disturbingly close to Ben. “I’ll gladly tell you all about this house, Miss,” he said, not taking his eyes off the boy. “When Mister Prewett reveals his real name.”

“My real name?” Ben asked. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not a pureblood, are you?” the elf hissed. “I can smell it.”

“Excuse you, elf!” Camille bellowed. She was a much better actress than Ben. “You surely didn’t mean to insult Mister Prewett in that way. I must have misheard you. Now apologise.”

Before they knew it, Scrook had gripped Ben’s hand and pulled it towards his own face, sniffing at the inside of Ben’s underarm. “I knew it!” the elf yelled. “Mudblood! Hokey quick, alarm the Masters!”

Hokey came running in from the kitchen at the same time as Tom and you arrived in the sitting room. All three of you stood there in the archway and looked at Camille, Ben and Scrook in disbelief.

“Traitors!” Scrook screamed and accidentally knocked the tray of canapés off the table. “What have you done, Master Riddle? Bringing a mudblood into these halls.”

Ben had finally wrenched his arm away from the elf, holding on to it tightly while standing up straight, his chest heaving.

“The Masters must know,” Scrook whined and turned around. “We have to tell them immediately, Hokey.”

“Enough,” Camille said as she rose from her seat. “Stupefy!”

In an instant, Scrook fell to the floor without another word, completely unconscious. Hokey let out a yelp at the sight, turned around and ran toward the kitchen. 

“Quick, before she apparates,” you shouted.

“Stupefy,” Tom called with his wand pointed at Hokey. “We don’t have much time. The charm wears off on elves much quicker than on humans.”

Ben and Tom dragged the two elves to the entrance hall and dropped them next to the fireplace, while Camille cleaned up the mess on the floor, where the canapés had landed.

When you had gathered by the fireplace again, Scrook already opened his eyes, blinking slowly.

“Leave,” Tom urged and pointed his wand at the elves. “Obliviate.”

Camille went first and disappeared into the flames, followed by Ben and you.

Back in Hogwarts, when Tom stepped out of the fireplace, you finally felt like you were able to breathe again.

“We did it,” you said and fell into his arms. “I can’t believe we really did it.”

Tom held you for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, then moved his head and looked at Ben when he let go. “What happened?”

Ben still hadn’t calmed down. He rubbed his hands on his trousers repeatedly and shook his head. “I don’t know. They were shocked when I thanked them for serving us food. Then the elf said he could smell that I’m not a pureblood.”

“You thanked them?” Tom asked. “Elves don’t accept that.”

“How am I supposed to know that? I’ve never seen a house-elf before.”

“Forget about that now,” Camille interrupted. “Did you get them? The Banshee tears.”

“Yes,” you said and pulled them out of your pocket. “We got them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Thank you for reading!


	15. A Dagger for a Devotee

Now that all of the ingredients for the antidote were gathered and added, the potion was as good as finished. It just had to simmer on for a while. If the instructions were correct, it would be finished on June 29th, which was the last day of school. Graduation day. One day before the wedding. 

The wedding. Tom thought about it a lot. It would happen. That, he knew. The plan was to give Elsie the antidote on their wedding day so that she would be completely healed and they could still keep a low profile towards Marvolo and Morfin. Their wish would be fulfilled then, and even if the Gaunts were going to ask for more, they wouldn’t know that Elsie wasn’t under their might anymore. Tom was sure they were going to try to pressure him by threatening to hurt Elsie someday, even when he was married. That was just in their nature. They would never be satisfied.

He wondered how long it would take them to figure out that she had been healed. Weeks, months, years? And how they would react then. Were they going to take out their anger on him? The more he thought about it, the less he cared. He had even fantasised about it if he was honest. That Marvolo would lose his temper and would attack him. Tom had waited so long for an excuse to pay his Grandfather back, his fingers were itching just thinking about it. Oh, the things he would like to do to him were unspeakable and the grin on his face only widened the longer he envisioned them. He would welcome the opportunity with open arms. 

Some nights, when he lay awake and couldn’t just fall asleep yet, Tom wondered if his life would have been different, if he would have turned out to be another person, had he not been brought up by the Gaunts. He didn’t wish for it, like his fiancée had mentioned so often, no, but he still couldn’t help but wonder. Was there a possibility for a different Tom Riddle to exist? One that would live with parents, one that wasn’t as cold and narrow-minded, one that could crack a real good joke to his friends? A funny, warm, kind version of him? His stomach squirmed at the thought. Disgusting. 

He could have turned out like Benjamin Hilt. Merlin’s sake, what a nightmare that would be. To act like him, so loud and bothersome. Head in the clouds, mouth always open and never thinking about any consequences. Hilt had it so easy. But nevertheless, Ben’s attitude was intriguing. Annoying yes, but intriguing. Tom wouldn’t have thought Hilt would be able to keep his muggleborn mouth shut and keep the pact a secret, but he hadn’t told anyone about it yet, as far as Tom was aware. And he didn’t seem to keep his word out of fear, but rather out of belief. Ben wasn’t the type to have deep thoughts, by the looks of it at least, but he had his priorities set. And for that Tom respected him. Everything Ben did seemed to come so easily from within, not wasting one too many thoughts. It was something so deeply ingrained that it must have come naturally. 

He was so different compared to Tom’s friends. Or whatever word one would use for people like Avery, Lestrange and the others. They were nothing more than followers, blind and mindless. They wouldn’t just offer their help to be a good person. They always wanted something in return, even if it was just Tom’s recognition. And he knew, if someone else were to take his place, they would drop him in an instant. Their loyalty was superficial and egoistic. Just as his own. He would drop them too if someone more useful were to show up and solicit themselves. 

That was how it always had been. How he had thought friendships were meant to be. A mutual agreement, quite similar to business. Be polite, make use of a person as much as you can, make sure they’re intimidated enough to keep their knowledge to themselves and wish them well on their way out. Simple, beneficial and most importantly efficient. 

But what his fiancée, Ben and Camille had was so different. He had waited for Camille and Ben to ask for something in return. Weeks had gone by, where he had anticipated for them to come up and ask for a favour. A note from the head boy to get out of detention, or something else. But they hadn’t. They had helped to steal the Banshee tears and were still tending to the potion in the Come and Go Room every day. For nothing? He couldn’t fathom it at first, and only when he thought about it again, it came to his mind that this could be what real friendship was like. 

He didn’t like how much it churned him, how much consideration it had taken to come to this conclusion, when apparently for other people, that was the most natural thing in the world.

Tom obtained a much greater deal of wit than Ben, without a doubt, but yet, Hilt possessed so much more emotional intelligence than Tom could ever dream of. And he was jealous of him. That Ben could just walk through life, listen to his gut and trust that whatever it would tell him would be with good intent. Tom could have made real friends too then. He could have developed that trust to his gut too, if he hadn’t been fed those vicious thoughts by the Gaunts his whole life. He could have even gotten to know a muggle for all he knew, if he hadn’t been told, day after day, how worthless and irrelevant they were. That’s what they had always said. But the Gaunts had lied so often, maybe they had lied about that too. He had believed them for so long that he couldn’t even tell which opinion was his own and which one had been planted in his head by someone else. 

And then came three people who acted against all his values, showing him a glimpse of what life could be like. Everything he knew, his view of the world, as well as his belief, had collapsed in a matter of months. He had learned so many new things, he wasn’t even sure if he knew himself anymore. 

Had he changed? He must have, somehow at least. It was ironic, how the Gaunts’ plan to marry him off to a pureblood witch, who they thought would bring their family safety and respect, turned out to result in the complete opposite. Nothing, not even Marvolo’s paranoia and obsession for being a step ahead had come of use. They all had turned against them in the end, and for what? The faint idea of power and reputation? What worth did those things even have when everyone who bowed down to you only did so out of fear? They would take the first chance they got to stab you in the back with the very dagger you had given them. If you can’t trust your devotees, why bother?

Trust was something he thought of a lot, too. Did someone truly trust him? His fiancée for instance. She had put her faith in his hands several times in the past, yes. But would she trust him with her life? Had he done enough to earn her deepest trust yet? Or would she let him fall too when the opportunity arrived? When the deal was sealed, her sister was free and the Gaunts were powerless. Would she leave him, or would she stay? It kept him up at night when he thought about being alone again. Not because he depended on someone to be there, he was fine on his own. But he couldn’t change the fact that he _wanted_ her to stay. And only her. No one else would do.

No one else had ever awoken that part of him before. That part that wasn’t as selfish, as calculating and cautious. And he knew no one else could. There was something about her, that slight brush of a hand when she touched him, or that unintentional notion of a smile she wore so often that broke out a whirlwind of emotion inside of him again and again. And he still didn’t even know what it was that he felt. It was nerve-racking, this mixture of nervousness, excitement and joy. If he had been able to, he would have buried those feelings long ago, deep down somewhere where they could have never disturbed him again. But he hadn’t. And he was glad about that. No matter how irritating it was, he craved it now. 

He craved to see her as often as possible, the sound of her voice, the touch of her fingers on him. Her mind, her body and everything in between had him longing, thirsting for even more proximity. He ached for that bond so much, it had become a hassle and he needed to suppress it to prevent himself from shying her away. 

But it was hard to feign composure when all he wanted was right there before him and she was so willing to accept his bid. It took all his might not to do what he most wanted and lock her up in a golden cage, where she would remain for him alone. His secret, his very own jewel. But most importantly _his_.

He couldn’t do that to her, he knew, she wouldn’t allow it. And he wouldn’t dare. He would never dare to add imbalance to the fragile structure they had built over the last year. She had come back to him eventually, day by day. He just needed to remind himself of that. Wait and improve his patience. Trust that she desired him as much as he did her. And by all accounts, she must have. Why else would she treat him the way she did? The idealist in him feasted on the way she acted towards him. How fearless and comfortable she was. How her mood could swing from gentle to feisty in a second, never dreading his reaction. Her honesty, which was the easiest, as well as the hardest thing to give someone, was what he most cherished her for.

Never before had he experienced something so close to perfection. The purity of emotion, so vibrant and raw it nearly hurt. But its absence was even worse, like a bottomless hole that sucked him in and ate him up from the inside. He had become addicted to the feeling and he would do anything to keep it. 

He would marry her, yes, and willingly so. He would do anything she asked from him. But if she was to leave him then, if she would take that dagger and push it into his heart, he knew it would destroy him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Thank you for reading!


	16. 30th June 1945

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some trigger warnings for this chapter: Physical fights, mentions of torture (brief), blood and violence, character death. Please proceed with care.

The N.E.W.T.s had gone by so quickly, it felt like all the preparations, all those years in Hogwarts and all the worries they had brought you, had been of utmost exaggeration. Of course, they had been challenging, but what the Professors had said about them in advance, how hard and draining they would be, how nervous every student had been, made it even more curious afterwards. It had only taken a few days after all. Some days of your life, which would most likely be forgotten in a few years. Just like any other week. And all that fuss for that? Well, at least they were over.

Tom, Camille and you had passed most classes with the highest grades. Freda had gotten some outstanding grades as well and even Avery and Lestrange had qualified, if only barely. The final evening in the Great Hall was filled with a strange kind of melancholy for the students of year seven. You had done it, all of you. Seven years in Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. It was like your first year had only gone by moments ago, you could practically still feel the sorting hat sitting on top of your head. But alas, all good things come to an end.

Final points were given to all of the houses and, to most people’s surprise, Hufflepuff won the cup. Everyone knew headmaster Dippet favoured Slytherin and Tom and Freda had surely given their own house a few extra points here and there, but Avery and Lestrange’s robbery from Slughorn had cost Slytherin too many points to recover from. All Hufflepuffs were overwhelmed with joy and Ben even ran over from the Gryffindor table to kiss Camille on the cheek while she celebrated.

Walking through the halls one last time was strange, you couldn’t fathom that you would leave the castle ultimately. It really had grown to be everyone’s second home and it would always remain so in your heart. Sadly, there wasn’t a lot of time for grief, as the antidote for Mors Grano was finally ready and waited to be filled into a flask to be used the following day. Tomorrow, June 30th would be your wedding day. A day you had dreaded but still couldn’t wait for. A day that was about to change everything.

* * *

And there you were. In an old chapel north of Ramsbury, a small muggle town, where no one knew who you were. The Gaunts had chosen the place themselves and had only told your family where to go the day of, most likely to make sure you couldn’t plan to mess with them. 

The chapel was dull, as was everything else there. No guests, not even a priest or a registrar to wed the two of you. Marvolo had told you that he was to do it himself. The place was so small, it wouldn’t have even fit a lot of guests, but you still wished that at least Camille could have been there to witness. And so, with a heavy heart, you stood in the tiny side room, where Mother’s wedding dress waited to be put on, while Elsie, your parents and the Gaunts waited in the chapel.

“Alright?” Tom asked as he fixed his tie in front of the mirror. 

You watched him as you went over towards the dress, your fingers brushing over the silk skirt. He looked great in his tailored black suit, white shirt and dark green tie, there was no way of denying it. Freda Morris would have been just as green with envy if she had seen him, but yet, not everything was about looks. 

“I’m alright,” you said and took another look at the dress. “I have to change now. Put this thing on.”

“I’ll give you some privacy in a minute,” he mentioned as he walked over to the desk where some things were gathered. He had put a large box there when you had arrived. “I brought someone with me.”

He pulled the top off from the box and you peaked in. “Nagini! Marvolo allowed for you to take her here?”

“He doesn’t know,” Tom shrugged. “And it would be better if it stayed that way.”

“I see,” you said as you held your hand inside the box for the snake to smell you. “Well at least I know one of my friends is here.” 

Tom wore an unreadable expression when he closed the box again, his lips thin as he nodded slightly. “Do you have the antidote with you?”

“Yes,” you answered and pulled it out from your pocket. The flask was the size of your palm, small and translucent. The potion inside shone through the glass like a silver and lilac gloss. “It’s right here.”

“Alright then,” he said. “Give it to your sister as soon as you can. I’ll wait outside with the others.”

When he closed the door behind himself you heard Marvolo nagging about what was taking so long, urging for you to hurry. The bastard made everything about himself again, even on your wedding day, which should have been the happiest day of your life. You pulled the dress off the hook vigorously, put it on and changed it here and there with your wand to make it fit better. When you went over to the mirror to look at yourself, it felt like staring at a stranger’s reflection. The dress was beautiful, but you didn’t look even close to what a happy bride should look like. Your hair and makeup had been done in a hurry, nothing was as perfect as it could have been. No traditions, no extended family or friends, not even a banquet. You didn’t know what you had expected - it was clear from the beginning that the wedding wouldn’t be anything like you had dreamed of since you were little - but it was certainly not this. Not as marginal, not as a means to an end.

Three hard knocks on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. “Are you done yet?” Marvolo’s muffled voice called. “Hurry up!”

Desperation turned into annoyance and your eyebrows furrowed even deeper. What did he want now? “I need a minute,” you answered as you opened the door only an inch. “Elsie, Mum, can you help me with my dress?”

Marvolo mumbled a few incomprehensible words while the two walked in. To hell with him, he could wait for five more minutes before he would get what he wanted. And you should get what you wanted too. Right now.

Mother looked you up and down with a smile. “You look beautiful, darling. What do you need help with?”

“Come,” you told them quietly and took Elsie by the hand, leading her to the other end of the tiny room, so that the Gaunts wouldn’t hear you. “I have to tell you something.”

The two looked at each other and then back at you, waiting for you to explain.

“I found something out a while back. Tom told me, he showed me. The curse that hit you, Elsie, it wasn’t sent by someone who wanted to attack Father. It wasn’t meant for Father at all.”

Elsie’s eyes grew wide and Mother laid her hand on your sister‘s shoulder. “What do you mean? Why would you tell us that minutes before your wedding?” Mother asked.

“Let me explain,” you went on. “Tom showed me that it was the Gaunts who sent the curse. That’s why they found a cure so quickly. And why they didn’t heal her completely.”

Mother gasped faintly, her hand wandered up to her own chest. “You mean…”

“Yes. They chose Elsie specifically so that you and Father would agree to their pact.”

“I… I can’t believe it,” Mother mumbled.

“They made me sick?” Elsie asked, her eyes as big and round as marbles. “On purpose?”

You nodded.

“But why haven’t you told us sooner?” Mother asked. “We could have-”

“I did as much as I could without attracting too much attention. Tom and I, we both assumed that the Gaunts wouldn’t even lift Elsie’s curse after the wedding. And even if they did, I wouldn’t trust them enough to let you drink anything that they would give to her again. So we brewed the antidote ourselves.”

You pulled out the flask and held it up in the air. Mother took it and inspected it for a moment. “You brewed that?”

“Yes. Elsie, take it right now. You will be healed completely then and the Gaunts won’t notice anything.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Mother asked. “And what then? What are you going to do?”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s safe. And then,” you looked at the door to the chapel and heaved a sigh. “Then I’ll get married. Stick to the plan.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mother said as she handed Elsie the flask.

“Would you rather have her drink something that Morfin brewed up? If he would give her anything at all.”

“You’re right,” she said and shook her head.

“Quick Elsie,” you urged her. “Drink up and we’ll be ready to go.”

Elsie nodded as she pulled the cork off the flask, then put her lips around the opening and took a small gulp. She scrunched up her face into a grimace. “Tastes gross.”

“Sorry, princess. They don’t make recipes for strawberry flavoured antidotes yet. Now drink it.”

Elsie exhaled sharply, then threw her head back and let the liquid pour into her mouth. One swig, two. She had it down almost completely when suddenly the door flew open.

“Excuse me ladies, what is taking you so long?” Marvolo asked, standing in the door frame, with Morfin, Father and Tom behind him. Marvolo stared at Elsie, who was just gulping down the last drops from the flask. “What is that? What did you give her?”

The three of you froze, staring back at Marvolo and the other men. Shit.

“Just her vitamins,” you lied. “To make sure she’s well for the ceremony.”

“No, no,” Marvolo huffed as he walked in. “Give me that.” He took the flask from Elsie’s hand and brought it up to his nose. “Morfin, come here.”

Morfin entered the room as well, took a look at the empty flask and smelled it. Father and Tom took several steps in too, filling up the room almost completely. 

“Stop,” Marvolo ordered and held his hand up to Father and Tom. “I didn’t tell you to come in.” The two halted and remained standing by the door. “Now, son. What is it?”

Morfin inspected the remaining liquid inside the flask, shaking it to see the single droplets hanging inside the vial. One side of his mouth pulled up into a ghastly smirk before he spoke through gritted teeth: “Mors Grano antidote.”

Marvolo brought his hand up to his neck, fumbling on the chain that hung there. That must have been where he carried their own flask with the unfinished antidote. It was still there, which visibly confused him. He remained calm, wouldn’t dare to show that he didn’t know how you had done it, his eyes dark and full of anger.

“You little bitch,” he spat. “Morfin, take the child.”

Morfin did as he was told, quicker than any of you could have reacted and pulled Elsie to the middle of the room by the hand, then stepped behind her, one hand around her neck, his wand in his other one, pointed right at Elsie’s head.

Mother cried out when she saw what had happened to her daughter and turned to walk over to her, while Father ran towards Morfin and Elsie as well.

“Stupefy!” Marvolo called, his wand directed at Father, who fell to the ground immediately. “I told you not to step in. No one’s making a move now unless I tell them to.”

Mother fell to her knees, looking at Father unconscious on the ground and Marvolo gaped at her in disgust. “Take your husband. And shut your mouth, or you’ll be lying there with him.”

She pressed her lips shut and crawled over to Father, slowly dragged him to the corner of the room behind you, where she held his head between her hands. Silent tears ran down Elsie’s cheeks, who was still captured between Morfin’s hand and his wand. You had managed to pull out your own wand during the turmoil and looked over at Tom in the doorframe, who had done the same.

Marvolo had noticed the looks you had exchanged and heaved a bitter laugh. “You two, eh? Partners in crime. And what do you think you’re doing there, girl? With your wand out. Do you really think you can defeat me with your schoolbook magic?”

You gripped your wand tighter to prevent your hand from shaking, swallowed down thickly and frowned. There were a million things you wanted to say, thousands of curse words you could have called him, but Morfin still had Elsie between his fingers. “Don’t you underestimate me, Marvolo.”

He clicked his tongue, let his head fall back and laughed wholeheartedly. “Oh, juveniles. Graduated a day ago and think they’ll conquer the world. Well, I got some bad news for you then. But first, you’re going to tell me how you’ve found out about Mors Grano. And how you got a hold of an antidote that isn’t ours.”

You didn’t answer and only looked at Elsie, who breathed rapidly, her hands holding on to Morfin’s grip around her neck.

“I see,” Marvolo sighed and turned his head towards the door. “Tom, would you give us the honour then? Come, stand next to your fiancée.”

Tom walked over silently and placed himself next to you, his hand gripping yours.

“Oh look at that,” Marvolo feigned. “Tragically in love. Now, Tom, explain.”

Tom didn’t answer, only held your hand a bit tighter and you could feel something cold inside of it, something metallic, perhaps.

“No?” Marvolo asked. “You don’t want to tell us? Well, then we’ll have to motivate you. Morfin, go ahead.”

Morfin grinned but didn’t point his wand at Elsie anymore. Instead, he pointed it right at you. “Crucio!”

The pain that rushed through you was unbearable from the moment it had started. You fell to your knees and opened your mouth to scream, but couldn’t even hear yourself or anyone else anymore. A million knives must have pierced your body at once, and they scraped off your skin with rusty blades inch by inch, while your head hammered and stung as if a lightning bolt had struck right into it. Your vision had left you from the pain, everything around you had gone white and you only heard scraps of conversation between the all-consuming buzz that rumbled between your ears. Tom was begging them to stop, you assumed, but couldn’t concentrate on his words anymore, as the pain threatened to crack your skull.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it ended. You opened your eyes slowly, blinked a couple of times when your perception came back and felt a small hand on your cheek. Elsie kneeled above you, next to Tom.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice hoarse, while you sat up groggily.

Marvolo was still standing in his spot, looking down at Morfin, who lay on the ground, holding his leg with both hands. And attached to his thigh, was Nagini, pressing her fangs into him through his trousers.

“Nagini,” you whispered and as soon as you had said her name, the snake let go of Morfin and retracted.

“She crawled out of her box when he hit you with the curse,” Tom said quietly. “And bit him before they could have noticed.”

Tom helped to get you on your feet again and even though your knees were still weak from the Cruciatus Curse, you stood in front of Elsie, to shield her from the Gaunts.

Morfin winced in pain and still held his leg. Nagini’s venom spread quickly, Morfin’s thigh was twitching on its own.

“Father,” Morfin whined. “I need treatment. Help me get home.”

Marvolo looked down at his son, lips parted with an expression of sheer revulsion on his face. “Do you think I have time to take care of your little injuries right now? Suck it up.”

“But… But Father, I can’t feel my leg anymore,” Morfin panted. “I might die when the venom reaches my heart.”

Marvolo sighed and bumped his foot against Morfin’s hurt leg, to which his son screamed. “Then leave.”

Morfin nodded, it must have taken all of his remaining strength not to pass out, and closed his eyes before he apparated, leaving only a few drops of blood on the floor behind.

“Now back to you,” Marvolo said and looked at Tom as if nothing more than a minor inconvenience had just occurred. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can kill everyone in this room within a second.”

Tom still didn’t answer and placed himself in front of Elsie and you, which made Marvolo laugh again.

“Oh, boy. You’d sacrifice yourself? For this family and not your own? I know I’ve raised you differently. You’re a disgrace.”

“You want me to tell you everything?” Tom asked. “Then let me come closer, so I can share all of my secrets.”

Marvolo remained unimpressed at the thought, there was no spell he couldn’t counter. So he rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Come as close as you want, son. But keep your wand up, where I can see it.”

And so Tom went. One step, two, three, four, until he was face to face with his grandfather. Marvolo still eyed Tom’s wand, gripping his own tightly. And then, Tom moved his other hand abruptly, jerking it toward Marvolo’s abdomen once. You couldn’t see from where you stood and only noticed when Marvolo looked down himself and opened his mouth.

“Imperio,” Tom said quietly while Marvolo fell to his knees.

Now that you could see what he had done, you put your hands in front of Elsie’s eyes, holding them closed. Marvolo was bleeding from his stomach and Tom held a bloody knife in his wandless hand.

“I’m just making sure you can’t apparate,” Tom said coldly. “Like uncle did. The coward. I want to see how you die.”

Marvolo looked up at Tom, opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, tears edging on the corners of his eyes. 

“No. You don’t get to talk now,” Tom went on. “Never again. You’re going to listen. And I’m even going to tell you what you wanted to hear. I found a way to tell her what you have done to Elsie. I stole Morfin’s book, and we brewed the antidote ourselves. Oh yes, before I forget, we also stole some Banshee tears from Morfin, while you were out. Scrook and Hokey were very helpful. I even learned some new things this year. Some of them from a muggle-born, can you believe? It got me thinking, you purebloods are so concentrated on magic, you wouldn’t even realise when I’d come up to you with a knife in my hand. And I was right. You didn’t. You see, you called me a bastard so often and reminded me that my father was a muggle. So I thought I’d remind you myself how much of a half-blood I am. Isn’t it awful dying the muggle way? So slowly, so weak.”

Marvolo laid to the side, impacted by the Imperius Curse and opened his mouth, coughing up blood, his eyes half-closed.

“And now, here we are,” Tom whispered. “You did this all to yourself. Good night, Grandfather.”

* * *

It took a while until you all had calmed yourselves. Father had woken up some minutes after Marvolo had closed his eyes completely and you had brought Elsie into the chapel, so she wouldn’t have to see the body. Tom, your parents and you hadn’t decided yet what to do with Marvolo. You had thought about leaving him there, or to apparate him to Gaunt manor, where the elves or Morfin could take care of it. If Morfin himself was still alive. 

Mother joined you in the chapel and you took the chance to get some fresh air outside. Only out in the open you noticed that you were still wearing the white dress. What scorn of fate it was to watch someone die on your wedding day. The door opened again behind you and Tom walked out. He had managed to remain composed better than anyone else there, even though he was the one who had killed somebody.

He walked up to you, looking at the ground and only lifted his head when he stood right in front of you. A warm breeze brushed over your skin as the sun was setting. “Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded. Physically you were. Your mental state was debatable. “I think I am.”

Tom dipped his head once too and loosened his tie. “Are you scared of me after what you’ve seen?” 

You looked him in the eyes, tilting your head slightly. His pupils were extended, brows sitting calmly above. “No,” you answered. “I would have done the same if I had to.”

He bit his lip and nodded, hands inside his pockets before he took them out, held you by your waist and kissed you. All the tension and stress seemed to leave your body for a moment, your shoulders finally relaxing and you wished you could hold on to him like this for an hour. Tom stayed close for a moment, pressed his forehead against yours and sighed. “So,” he said as he took a step back. “The pact is done with. Elsie is cured. You don’t have to marry me anymore.”

A surprised gasp fell from your lips. You hadn’t even thought about that yet. He was right. “I guess I don’t.”

Tom pushed the tip of his shoe through the gravel on the ground, drawing patterns. “But I wanted to know,” he said. “Would you have gone through with it if this had turned out differently? Would you have married me and stayed?”

There was a moment of silence when you thought about it. What answer could anyone give to such a question? You liked him, yes, you would even dare to say you were in love with him. But would you have really married him this quickly if you could have decided yourself?

“Would you?” you asked, to which he smirked. The wind tousled his hair, just like when you had sat with him at the bench back in the Hogwarts’ courtyard. “Why don’t you ask me? Properly I mean.”

Tom’s smirk vanished and he looked at you seriously. He took both of your hands in his, inspecting you closely. He opened his mouth but shut it again to clear his throat. Then he asked: “Do you want to marry me?”

A smile formed on your face, one that he didn’t mirror, as long as you wouldn’t answer him. “No,” you said. 

Tom’s expression didn’t change, but when you looked closely, you noticed that the size of his pupils had decreased, his brows now hanging in confusion. He still held your hands but you could feel him trembling.

“Not yet,” you added, your smile still in place. “Not like this and certainly not today. Not on Marvolo’s terms. Not without my friends and not before we really get to know each other and both decide, on our own, that we want to do it.”

You leaned forward, kissed him once and said: “So, ask me again in a year or two?”

And then, the rarest sight of them all, Tom Riddle smiling genuinely, was given to you. He looked so handsome wearing it and with the orange light from the setting sun on his face when he let your hands go and pulled you in.

“I promise I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was it, the grande finale :3 I truly hope you liked it! There’s still one more part to come, the epilogue, which will hopefully please the majority of you. I see it as a little cherry on top. Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Thank you for reading!


	17. Epilogue

The year after the incident at the chapel in Ramsbury went by very uneventfully compared to your last year at Hogwarts and the weeks after, even though so much was changing. Boring was certainly not the right word to describe it. Everyone involved had wished for a bit of peace and was more than happy to live a quiet life for a bit.

Marvolo’s body had been buried appropriately. A small bribe had been enough to make the Mediwizard who had examined him confirm that he had died naturally, of old age. Marvolo had been right after all, they must have really been a bunch of quacks in St. Mungos.

Morfin wasn’t to be found anywhere. Gaunt Manor had been empty, apart from the two house-elves, when your family, Tom and you had gone there. He must have apparated to the manor after Nagini had attacked him, however. A great amount of Galleons and some potions were missing from his chamber when you searched through it. Hokey and Scrook wouldn’t tell anyone what they had seen - they were still loyal to their Masters. They didn’t want to be freed either, even begged not to be given proper clothes. So Tom gave them to Hepbzibah Smith, an old witch who was known to be an avid collector of magical antiquities and was looking for elves to serve her.

Since Morfin wasn’t there to inherit any of Marvolo’s riches, they were passed down to Tom directly. He owned Gaunt manor now, as well as the mountains of Galleons that were locked up in the Gaunt’s vaults at Gringotts. While Gaunt manor had been tempting to pack your bags and move into, both of you didn’t fancy the thought. The house was linked to countless haunting memories for Tom and despite its enormous size, it was way too cold and rigid for your liking and reminded you too much of the Gaunts themselves.  
So Tom sold it to a wealthy family, muggles as far as you were aware, which must have made Marvolo turn over in his grave one last time.

Tom bought a house in your home town shortly after, smaller yet still as boastful as you had expected it to be. It even had a telephone installed, which you didn’t mention to him after you had given him a look when you had seen it, to which he had just shrugged and rolled his eyes.  
You didn’t move in with him immediately, as your parents didn’t allow you to leave your home unmarried. They allowed you to visit him, though, and you did so as often as you could. 

Life had gone on as it always did and you had gotten a job right after school. The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers had reached out to you after they had seen your grades and gotten a letter from Professor Slughorn. They had asked if you wanted to be trained to become a Potions Master, which was an honour not many witches and wizards were granted with. It hadn’t taken long for you to accept, so you were in close contact with one of their tutors, a witch by the name of Guiliana Toffana.

Tom had taken on a desk job for the Ministry, which paid well even if it wasn’t the most exciting work to do. He had plans though, wanted to work himself to the top one day. And for all you knew, there was no one stopping him from doing so.

Camille had started working as an assistant at Ollivander’s Wand Shop in Diagon Alley. The year had been hard to bypass for her, as she wasn’t able to see Ben as often. They sent each other owls almost daily and the only thing you worried about was that none of you were in Hogwarts anymore to help Ben out with Herbology. Tom had suggested that your little sister Elsie could help him study, as she had started her first year and had been sorted into Gryffindor. 

On 1st July 1946, one year and one day after your almost-wedding, Tom invited you over to his house. You would have lied if you had said you weren’t expecting it. And he met your expectations by getting down on one knee. He asked you to marry him again, 366 days after he had done so the first time. And your answer was different now.  
Only a few weeks later - you would have never thought it to be possible to organise a wedding this quickly, well, what a bit of pocket money was able to do - the big day had come.

It couldn’t have been more different from the day in Ramsbury. Your whole family, even the distant aunts and cousins, as well as all of your friends had been invited. Everyone gathered in a small castle north of the Peckforton Hills in Cheshire, where the ceremony and subsequent celebrations were to take place. Even muggles would have described the place as magical. Its old walls and lush, green lawn inside the courtyard reminded you of Hogwarts a lot. 

You wore an elegant white dress, not Mother’s, but one that you had picked out yourself. One last look into the mirror before the ceremony would begin and, you even had to admit to yourself, you had never looked better. 

Father had to help to calm you down before you entered the chapel with him. Walking down the aisle with the music playing and all eyes fixated on you was scarier than fighting the Gaunts had been. But Father was there by your side, leading you up to the altar safely.  
And the moment you spotted Tom waiting for you there, all nerves were soothed. He bit his lip while you approached him slowly, his eyes wandering up and down your figure. A smile, one that even reached up to his eyes, formed on his face and didn’t seem to leave after he had taken in the sight.  
Ben, his best man, stood behind him, and only watched Camille, your maid of honour, from the side as tears of joy ran down her face.

The officiant’s speech got drowned out by your thoughts, as you lost yourself in Tom’s eyes, standing face to face with him in front of all of the guests. The way he looked back at you, deeply but still collected, led your mind to wander.  
Love surely wasn’t like it was described inside a book, no, but when the people involved were honest and trusting, it could turn out to be even better than words were able to ever describe it. You both had changed so much since you had gotten close. And you were going to change with every day that you would spend together. There was much work to be done still, many compromises to be made and a lot of healing yet to start. But you were sure that with an open heart and a tiny bit of luck, you were going to make it. And you couldn’t wait. 

Time had passed by so quickly until now and it would pass by equally as fast from now on. Every day was just another grain of sand falling down the hourglass that was life. But now that every grain had Tom in it, they seemed to drop differently. Happier, more meaningful and full of expectation for what’s to come. Every grain was to be cherished and the two of you promised that to each other when you both said the words. “I do.”

_**The end.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we’re done :’) I’m a bit sappy, it’s hard for me to let this story go. I actually can’t believe I pushed through and really finished it. 43k words, a short novel. Wow. And I wouldn’t have been able to do it, if all of you hadn’t liked and commented on this story. I really need the feedback and you all were so kind and gave it to me. So, credits to you, we made it. And as always, thank you for reading!


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